Vines
by ProfessorPalmarosa
Summary: This Naruto prequel series has Uchiha Fugaku as the main character, showcasing his younger days all the way to his death.
1. Blue Phoenix

**Vines: Blue Phoenix**

They'd been at this since daybreak. The edges of the child's mouth were so dry and sore that his lips cracked and bled. His throat hurt and he couldn't shake a dry cough, but that was nothing compared to the searing sensation resonating from the back of his head and the tips of his ears. Every time he felt ashamed, he'd burn there until everything calmed back down.

This wouldn't. Already, his mother's face contorted into a frustrated expression. She'd start by furrowing her eyebrows together, as though his actions confused her. Then her eyes would narrow as she attempted to identify the root cause of her son's failure to meet her expectations. Next, she'd chew her lip as she inwardly debated _saying_ something. If the fluke was particularly bad, her hands would fidget, too, indicating she couldn't decide whether to pat him on the back or shake him. By the time Uchiha Kazusa's upper lip curled back and Fugaku could see her front teeth, he knew she'd speak and it wouldn't be anything he'd want to hear.

"For heaven's sake, Fugaku," she groaned. "How do you expect the clan to recognize you as my heir if you can't get this right?"

This was easier said than done! This technique differentiated the children from the adults and she expected him to perform it at the ripe old age of _seven_. Sometimes Fugaku got the feeling that nothing would never be enough to impress his mother. She was the ambitious one, the _fiery_ one–and all because she was the previous clan head's daughter. Instead of turning the reigns over to her husband, Kazusa kept it all for herself. The clan honored her as their current head, though she wasn't terribly liked.

' _It's hard!'_ he wanted to scream at her. ' _Can't you see I've been trying to do this all day? I'm tired. I want to go home and try this again when I feel better.'_ None of those words came out. Instead, the only thing he managed to utter out was a grumbled apology.

"What are you apologizing for?" Kazusa continued to glower, but at least she made the effort to lean down and look her child in the eye. "You're trying your best, right?" Fugaku took a deep breath, sucked in his bottom lip, and nodded his head. "You're sure?" Before he could even answer her, something else left Kazusa's mouth that always made her child cringe. "Do you know how old your _oba-san_ and I were when _we_ first managed to do this?"

If his _father_ came up in conversation, Fugaku knew he'd see a bit more leniency from his mother. His father, despite being a late bloomer in almost everything, was now one of the strongest people in the clan. Uchiha Sarani believed in taking his time to grow into someone of great quality. He was more the sort to encourage studying hard rather than attempting to cram every last thing into one's head. Stressed shinobi rushed their results, only to come out of their efforts with nothing more than a hot mess.

If his _aunt_ came up, Kazusa wouldn't be as lenient. Naho was his mother's lifelong best friend and revered by her as a pseudo-sister. No one in Kazusa's world sat upon a pedestal anywhere near as high as Naho did. Kazusa nearly deified her, singing Naho's praises every chance she could, and held her high as a nigh unattainable golden standard. If her son could emulate her beloved friend, no one would ever question his greatness or potential.

Already, Fugaku's heart wanted to sink into the pit of his stomach. "No," he confessed, glancing down at himself, thinking it unfair that he was being compared to one of the more infamous adults in the clan. "But I'm not–"

Kazusa's large hand landed on her son's head. She lightly ruffled his dark brown hair, watching it start to fluff up in the back. "No excuses," she told him firmly. "You're _my_ son. Mine _and_ your father's."

' _Bet you wish you could've had a kid with oba-san_.' Some things were better left unsaid. A dirty look would be enough. A _scowl_ would be enough. He–

"I _know_ we'll see flames come out of you before we go home." Kazusa's tone had grown softer, so _sure_. "Now try again."

…

Fugaku found out the answer to his mother's question later. _Five_. They'd both been two goddamned years younger than him when they mastered _Gōkakyū no Jutsu_. Not wanting to get into another argument with his mother, he'd worked up the nerve to interrupt his father and ask.

As hot-blooded and proud as Kazusa could be, Sarani was her perfect balance. The clan revered him for his ability to keep a calm and level head in any situation. Beyond that, he was a master strategist and well earned the respect of this family–and Kazusa's passionate adoration.

More importantly to a boy Fugaku's age, his father knew what to say and do to calm him down. No matter how heated an argument or sharp a retort as Kazusa threw his way, Sarani had a presence to him that made even the end of the world sound unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

"Don't let this bother you. Your mother and I were the first generation of Uchiha children to grow up in this village," he explained. "Your auntie, too. Those were dark days. Children didn't have time to act like children. Everyone grew up too fast." He knew he had. And he'd lost so many loved ones along the way.

"So why does she want me to do this so bad? We don't live in the dark ages anymore." If it were up to him, he'd revisit the fireball technique at a later date. Two days in a row and he hadn't mastered it yet. "She needs to cut me a break. I'm not like _oba-san_."

To that remark, Sarani let loose a long sigh and put the pipe down. "Fugaku, I'm not like your oba-san and neither is your mother. _No one_ is like your _oba-san_."

"Then why–"

"Your mother wants you to do everything your aunt can because she admires her strength and wants to see that same strength in you. We _all_ want to see you excel, but I'll talk to your mother about easing off a little when she comes home," and he'd pray the whole time that she hadn't found _another_ stray cat along the way. "After all…"

And here came the biggest thing he _hated_ about his father. Kazusa was direct, but Sarani had it in him to be a grand master of passive aggression. That man could crush someone with very few words.

"It's too much to expect you to do this."

…

A bright and vibrant fireball left his mouth at long last, but it came at a great price. Fugaku practiced the move at every free moment for four straight days. His dry cough turned into a bloodied one, his face caught so much heat that he suspected he'd singed his nose hairs, and it hurt too much to talk. Even swallowing liquids was painful, but growing boys still had to eat.

But no one was there to witness the fruit of all his hard labor–or so he thought. He panted, wheezed, and coughed up red flecks until he felt like he'd pass out. And yet Fugaku grinned because _he'd done it!_ And since he did it once already, then he could take some time, show his mother, and–

"My… _someone's_ been practicing. Very nice. Very nice indeed."

That wasn't Kazusa's roar of approval soon to be accompanied by a hearty thump on the back. Sarani wouldn't have said anything at all, were he there. He'd just smile in proud, glorified radiance, and tell his son on the way home that he was full of surprises. His spectator was neither person. Fugaku recognized the tall, willowy silhouette even before Naho stepped out of the shadows. "My daughter can't do this yet. You're leaps and bounds ahead of Kaede."

There! Take _that_ , legacies! He was already leagues ahead of perfect auntie's progeny!

The seven-year-old beamed over Naho's praise, feeling some prideful color flush into his face. Excitedly, he walked closer to his aunt, hoping for some physical sort of reward for a job well done. She'd kiss his cheek sometimes or pat his back. Other times, she'd sneak him candy and tell him to keep it a secret from Kazusa.

"Do you think you did a great job?" Naho asked, tightly smiling from crimson-painted lips. She always dolled herself up and dressed fancier than any other lady in the clan. Seemingly every outfit she owned was a tightly-fitting, high-collar dress, not that Fugaku could figure out why. Happily, he nodded along. "It was a rather impressive fireball. I'm sure your parents will tell you that when you show them later."

What his father told him earlier rang in his head: **Your mother wants you to do everything your aunt can because she admires her strength and wants that same strength for you.** To hear he'd impressed Naho was a huge boost for his ego. She was going to endorse him and tell his mother and father what he could do, wasn't she?

But his aunt did something else. She gave another forced smile and stood upright. After brushing herself off and poising her slender body for perfect posture, she turned her attention toward an old metal gate and performed the all-too-familiar hand-signs.

What Fugaku saw next caused his mouth to hang wide open in disbelief. From Naho's lips came a _blue_ fireball so bright that the boy's eyes hurt from looking at it. The gate melted as though it were made of ice. Everything in Naho's path turned to ash and there he was, proud of a basic fireball. This time, her pursed smile split to show her teeth. As a hoarse and raspy snicker left her lips, so did smoke.

"Don't become complacent just because you did it right."


	2. Bōfūu

Bōfūu

It was never an issue before, until a friend followed him home from Academy and made a remark about the whole house smelling strongly of litter box.

"The cats are nice." Not really. Most of them were half-wild and most hadn't been spayed or neutered. "But my head hurts." Why wouldn't it? The smell of tomcats marking their territory was a nauseating smell and part of the reason why Fugaku never let his mother's precious pets into his room. Only an old, fat tabby got a pass and that was only because, out of all the cats, that one was _his_. "Can we play at _my_ house next time?"

"Sure, Tohru. No problem."

He'd do his best not to get upset or offended, but he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't embarrassed. Tohru's mother, Koharu, proudly sat on the Konoha Council as one of the Third Hokage's top advisors. Tohru was her only child: her beloved, treasured, and pampered son. Kazusa and Sarani were glad their child had friends outside of the Uchiha Clan, but _this_ was a step backward.

About an hour later, Sarani returned from work to find his son scrubbing furiously at one of eleven empty litter boxes. "Tohru went home," Fugaku explained. "He said our house smells like cat pee. I'm scrubbing _everything_ down before I invite anyone else over." The edges of his ears turned ruddy, indicating clearly to his father that he felt some shame in this.

And this wasn't exactly becoming of someone who would be leading his clan in what Sarani _hoped_ would be another twenty-or-so years. Still, even he had to concede that somewhere down the line, Kazusa rescued too many cats.

It started out innocent enough; a stray but friendly mama cat followed her home when she, too, was pregnant. She and the cat had their babies at the same time and so she felt a special bond with the feline. The plan had been to find homes for the kittens, but she became emotionally attached to them, too. It then escalated to feeding a nearby feral colony. _More_ cats brought their kittens before Kazusa as a sign of trust. She was one of them. They were her dear friends.

This would be a difficult intervention, but Sarani felt he could handle it. If his son already felt enough shame to clean up after his mother's pets, then that wasn't a good sign.

…

"Dear." It was never good when he addressed her as that. "We need to talk."

Kazusa lifted her frizzy dark head from dinner and put one last bit of duck in her mouth. "About…?"

She'd bait him, knowing full well Sarani would only speak up when he had a strong opinion that differed from her own. It never was anything she wanted to hear. Sarani's dark eyes darted down toward a one-eyed ginger tom who head-butted his arm in the hopes of getting some of the duck. Then his eyes went toward a half-grown tortoise-shell who yowled and hollered at the top of her lungs because she was in heat. "…your point?"

"Our son had a friend over this afternoon, but the boy won't be coming back. I think you know why." He was going to say it. She could _feel_ it. She held the bowl in her hands, candy apple red nails scratching the paint on the ceramic. "The house smells strongly of cat."

"They're clean animals." It came off as combative: a knee-jerk defensive response because this felt like an attack. "And everybody's litter-trained. _I_ don't smell it."

As if on cue, Fugaku saw the tomcat backing up toward one of the cabinets and spray. There went his appetite. "That one didn't use the–"

No one told him to hush with words, but Kazusa slammed her flat palm down on the table hard enough to make her precious pets scatter across the house. Fugaku jumped. Sarani sat there unfazed, used to her tantrums. He wasn't going to give in to her this time. "You're _used_ to it." He got up, went toward a litter box, and gestured at it. "Fugaku spent his whole afternoon scrubbing down the house and the boxes to get rid of the smell. You asked me a few weeks ago why no one wants to hold unofficial meetings in our home, or why Naho only ever invites us to _her_ place for dinner. It's the smell."

A brave calico kitten made her way back into the room and attempted to climb Fugaku's leg, mewing for his food. Her claws felt like needles and he was sure she'd drawn blood.

Kazusa hated _so much_ to admit it, but her husband had a point. The last time Naho came over to play cards with her, she burned incense. Her friend made discomforting faces until she excused herself long before the game ended. It wasn't only her, either. Some of Kazusa's other friends sniffed the air and stared at the cats. "So the boxes might need to be cleaned a little more. That's not a—"

"Or most of them can live outside. They're mostly feral, anyway, so–"

She was going to _shut him down_ for that. Her face contorted in outrage. "I rescued them! They didn't have homes. They trusted me to give them a place to stay because nobody else would. I've raised most of these cats since kittenhood! I know their mothers! There's hawks and owls out there, Sarani. Those kittens could…they could…oh, _you don't care_."

"More like I don't understand," Sarani countered, but his wife was already giving him her outraged and betrayed face. "One or two, I can understand. Maybe even three. But I lost count after the fourth litter." These were no longer pets. These cats were an indoor colony and ruining the house. "I know you love them. I love a lot of them, too, but–"

Like an angry child, Kazusa got up, scowled, and stormed off. The door slammed so quickly that a picture fell over. There were few photographs from her childhood, but that had been one of them. The glass broke, but Fugaku still knew which picture it was.

She'd been around his age in that picture, standing there happily with a fluffy golden-eyed cat with fur the color of smoke. This animal, _Bōfūu_ , held a special place in Kazusa's heart since he'd been a gift from her father's closest friend.

Rather, the man who gave her the cat did so in an act of good faith between two formerly warring clans. According to Kazusa, her father held this man in high regard, but that changed as time went on. Eventually, when the two had a falling out, Kazusa was ordered to give up her pet.

There was a lot Fugaku didn't understand regarding his mother, but her obsessiveness over the cats wasn't even remotely on the top of the list. At least he could clean up the mess and tune out the fact he could hear her talking smack about her husband to her meowing hoard in the other room.

…

They wanted the cats gone. Neither Sarani nor Fugaku understood any part of the love and devotion she felt; they merely wanted the cats _gone_.

A sea of green, gold, amber, and blue stared at her longingly and she felt the vibration in every purr. These little ones were presented to her with the sort of absolute trust only an animal could give. Who in their right mind would ever… _could_ ever…

* * *

 **…** **who could ever say no to that face? With his tiny button nose and smooshed-in features, the cat captivated the little girl. He held her undivided attention with his copper-piece eyes and his fluffy gray fur that resembled storm clouds. Perhaps that was why the long-haired man who gave her the kitty said his name was Bōfūu. "I'm hoping he'll be a life-long friend for you, Kazusa-chan."**

 **The man had a charming face, too: the sort she couldn't picture making any expression other than big, happy smiles. If he laughed, she felt she'd do the same without any other prompting. She wanted to stay as close to him as she could, if only because her father was the eternal rain-cloud in comparison to this living sun standing before her.**

 **Kazusa's entire face lit up in glee, dark eyes determined to make contact with their guest for as long as possible. But…but that** ** _kitty_** **…**

 **"** **He's for me?!" She wanted to jump for joy when it dawned on her that he was** ** _her_** **gift, not her father's. This wonderful, lovely man came all this way to shake her daddy's hand, but the main reason he showed was to present her with this marvelous animal.**

 **"** **Did you really have to get her a pet?" Her father sounded exasperated, but Kazusa heard something else in his voice: he'd concede to letting her keep it. This was her first pet and she was already in love. If he told her she couldn't accept the gift, he'd be the bad guy and he knew it. "Kazusa, you're squeezing the cat too hard. It's going to scratch you."**

 **But he didn't. The kitty purred and nuzzled against her, even putting a paw to her cheek. Those little bean-toes felt so hot! Holding him almost felt like holding a plush toy, but she loved his warmth and the feel of his little cat-motor in her arms. Her father's warnings about the unpredictability of felines went ignored. She'd show her best friend this wonderful gift later. They'd put ribbons on her cat to show he had a home and feed him chicken and fish. Lots of little girls loved to have something to nurture and Kazusa was no exception.**

 **"** **If you like the gift, be polite and thank him." As if she needed to be prompted! Kazusa beamed, bowed before the man, and thanked him again for her new friend.**

* * *

Down the hall, she heard her son playing with his pudgy tabby. Something struck him as amusing, at least. Kazusa peered in, curious to see what all the fuss was, and couldn't help but smile. The two of them looked right at home playing with a feather wand. That old cat had been part of this family since the first time Kazusa tried to get pregnant, _years_ before having Fugaku. He was half-blind, missing most of his teeth, and purred like a half-submerged boat motor, but none of that mattered to her son. A friend was a friend and this one used to sleep in the crib with him.

' _I understand,_ ' Kazusa realized. ' _People always cast their judgments and shadow their relationships with prejudice and private agendas. Humans have never been capable of unconditional love. Beasts are._ '

Animals never raised their voices, cursing and shrieking that you were nothing but a disappointment from day one. They didn't care if you were born a daughter instead of a son or do their best to undermine every accomplishment in your life because you'd _never_ be what they wished for. They wouldn't smile in your face and pretend to be your friend, only to undermine you the moment they assumed you were out of earshot. So long as you understood their body language and their limits, animals would never turn on you. A cat's love had to be earned, but once one had it, that love could last a lifetime– _their_ lifetime, at least.

Few things in the world brought her more comfort than the rough touch of a cat tongue on her hand or cheek, or the warmth and resonance of a purr on her lap. Sarani complained sometimes, but Kazusa's favorite kitties could kick him out of the bed and steal his side for themselves.

* * *

 **It was amazing what having a private audience did to a child's self-esteem. Best friend, Naho, was already at that age where she tried to act oh-so-grown-up by comparison and didn't want to play "silly games" anymore–not when anyone was watching, anyway. Kazusa could wander off and play make-believe with her new friend.**

 **He'd sleep in the bed with her and demandingly bump his head against her hand when he wanted her to keep petting him. On the colder nights, he'd even nuzzle his way beneath the blankets to place himself next to her slightly pudgy body for more warmth. Sometimes, if she pampered Bōfūu enough, he'd be generous enough to show her his downy belly.** **His cat tummy was curlier than the rest of him with traces of white and ghost-stripes swirled in with the smoky gray.**

 **Of course, the cat wasn't exactly an angel. If she played too roughly with Bōfūu, he'd growl and give her plenty of warning that he'd bite if she didn't stop. However, in the moments where the seven-year-old cried out in pain, the cat licked the same place where he nipped her as if to apologize. Then came the nuzzling and the purrs. After all, what did Kazusa know? She was a big dumb cat compared to him. He had to show her everything.**

 **She wanted to hide the nips and the scratches every time it happened, all because something was going on with her father. Something kept him up late at night and she'd hear his loud, storm-like bellows of rage. Things broke, he'd weave tapestries of hateful words with many names Kazusa recognized (including her own), and then came the sobs. Those were the worst part. He'd grab pillows, dig his nails into the sides, and scream his lungs out into that muffled fluff.**

 **Bōfūu needed to sleep with her. It wasn't so much that he wanted to, but he needed to. She'd never seen him do it, but she wouldn't put it past this angry, bitter man to kick her cat if he was in a rare enough mood.**

 **Still, she wanted to watch and eavesdrop. As frightening as her father could be during his bad days, he could just as easily be her favorite person on the good days. Was it too much to want the same kind of love that Naho's father gave her? Tenjin seemed to do everything with Naho. They trained, he bought her pretty dresses, and even played with her.**

 **And all Kazusa, single child that she was, got was the malcontent thing downstairs, muttering things to himself that no one on earth should have heard.**

 **She should have kept the door closed, but the cat decided he had enough of confinement. If he could warm over one heart, he could warm over another. He'd–**

* * *

"How long were you watching?" Shit. He saw her. Kazusa twitched and forced out a smile, waving nervously at her child. "Can you please _knock_ next time?"

"Ah ha ha ha ha…ha…sure." Kazusa paused for a moment, then decided she may as well act like an adult for at least a moment. "…but this is still my house. I can open a door whenever I want. Even yours."

Fugaku scrunched up his face and Kazusa couldn't help it; she saw her younger self so much in that kid's expressions, including _that one_. "One of these days, you'll do it without thinking and embarrass the both of us." Embarrass? More like scar for life. She knew what teenage boys could be like and he'd be there in no time. For selfish reasons, Kazusa had her fingers crossed that he'd someday fall in love with Naho's daughter, Kaede, but that wasn't working out. " _Please_ knock? I like privacy."

It was rare she'd smile in that hurt way, but it unnerved him all the more. "Sorry…" The door began to slide closed again.

* * *

 **"** **He was** ** _my_** **gift!** ** _Mine_** **!"** **It wasn't fair to Bōfūu to be held like that, but Kazusa was a defensive child trying to protect the thing she loved most. "He's not your kitty!" This wasn't fair to her, either. Why did it have to be her problem if two grown men couldn't get along!? "I LOVE HIM!"**

 **Bōfūu yowled in her arms, but that only made Kazusa hold him** **even tighter. Her father's black eyes seemed to gleam in the dim candlelight. Part of his face was shiny. Had he cried earlier? She knew full well he'd never admit it if she asked, and that would only make him insist even more that Bōfūu had to go.**

 **Why couldn't she hold him forever and smell catnip and kitty cat kisses? "Don't make me do this. Please!"**

 **But she could already see the harsh decisiveness etched on his face. Her daddy was so handsome sometimes, but the things he felt inside polluted that otherwise serene appearance. All she could see in him were those awful emotions. It wasn't that he hated her; this was about** ** _the man_** **. One day, the man was his dearest friend. The next, he cursed him more than he cursed anyone else in his life.**

 **"** **We aren't going to be bought by pretty words and hollow promises anymore. You love that animal. Don't you, Kazusa?" His expression only intensified in soured mania when his daughter nodded her head frantically.**

 **Kazusa saw the face of a man who looked at her as though she'd stabbed him in the heart. Her father saw the face of a child who believed him to be cruel enough to tell her to kill an innocent creature. "You can't keep him. If you do, it means he's bought you. It advertises to everyone else in this village that our loyalty can be bought. Get rid of him."**

 **"** **Don't make me. P-please. Bōfūu didn't–he didn't mean to do what he did." But she didn't know that for sure. Boy cats marked their territory sometimes and he'd spritzed all over Daddy's favorite yukata. "I'll clean up."**

 **But the damage had already been done. She wouldn't be able to plead her case. "DON'T MAKE ME GET RID OF MY CAT!"** **But those hands were already outstretched, waiting for Kazusa to be an obedient child and hand the animal over.**

 **So why didn't she run away and hide her baby? They could strike it out on their own! Who needed him? Who…**

* * *

Who did her son and her husband think they were, standing up to her like this? Fugaku got a pass because of his age and because he mattered so much to her. He had no idea how difficult it'd been for her to keep a child. The fact he'd made it to this age was a miracle.

The sacrifices she'd made for family over the years were endless. For her father, she'd given up the thing she loved most. Thanks to continuing her bond with Naho, she'd lost someone even more precious. By marrying Sarani, now it felt as though she'd be pushed to make even more sacrifices without so much as a word.

She'd give and give and _give_ until there was nothing left to her but a hollow husk of the person she could have been, had fate been even a little kinder. Had she been born a son, then maybe things would have turned out better. Had she _given birth_ to more sons, even! Her nails dug into the wall.

"I had no idea it was going to upset you this much." Turning around, there was her calm and soft-spoken husband. As always, he smiled her way and came closer in that cautious, respectful way. It endeared him to her so much. Even with all her issues and problems, he'd come to her with open arms and love her in as close to an unconditional way as a person could.

"I never told you, did I? How this whole mess even started?" Kazusa moved toward Sarani, wrapping her arms around him. They could leave their boy alone. She could pull him into another room and lay bare another part of her life.

* * *

 **As disgusting as cat urine could be, Bōfūu's greatest crime hadn't been in acting like a cat. Through no fault of his own, he'd become a symbol of the worst kind: that the Uchiha heir apparent could be easily blinded by petty gifts. This wasn't about one of her father's old enemies reaching out to do something nice for a little girl who only craved a little tenderness in her life. This was about polluting the future; and for that, she couldn't keep the animal.**

 **But at least she didn't have to kill him. "Daddy says I have to let you go." Bōfūu wasn't going to understand. She could see it in those beautiful copper eyes of his that he didn't get it. "But you'll be fine. Someone else is gonna find you and love you."**

 **It didn't feel like the truth, though. She choked and sputtered because her throat hurt from all the sobs. She'd shrieked the worst possible thing at her father earlier, telling him that she loved the cat more than she loved him. It shut him up, though. The look on his face–she'd** ** _never_** **been able to make him look that way before.**

 ** _Good_** **. Then maybe there was a real human being hiding in there somewhere. If so, she could force him to understand all the anguish and grief he'd caused her!**

 **Fat, ugly tears littered her face as she put her smoke-colored companion on the ground. She'd done all she could to keep her cat indoors at all times, and now she had to turn him loose to the wild. There were hawks and wild dogs and other things out there that could maul her beloved Bōfūu to bits.**

 **The cat did the worst possible thing: he nuzzled against her and tried to follow. This had to be some kind of sick joke, right? "No…you can't. I'm sorry, but you can't." She'd leave food out for him and if he came to get it, she'd assume he was doing well on his own.**

 **None of her friends could take him. The message would be the same if they did, but she'd never forgive them.**

* * *

"…I fed him for years," she admitted, sitting on the side of the bed. "Everyone else was so wound up in politics and face that they didn't stop to think about what they'd done to me." She shivered as she felt Sarani's hand trace across her spine. He meant it to be comforting, but it wasn't. "I never trusted him again. Even if he gave me pretty things and spoke to me with more kindness in his voice after that, I never trusted him."

And eventually, she burned all bridges with him. After he left, she destroyed almost everything he owned. They didn't even hold his picture alongside the others in the shrine. They didn't burn incense for him. _Nothing_ , former status as a clan head be damned. And in the event he wasn't dead, she'd bar him from ever meeting his grandchild. It wasn't only what he'd forced with the cat, but that betrayal set a whole maelstrom into action.

They all let her down, aside from that cat. "But _the cat_ , Sarani…the cat did just fine without me."

"You still saw him?"

Kazusa slowly nodded her head. "Until he was too old and couldn't move anymore, but I think he passed the word along. His babies came to me, one by one. Mama cats brought their babies to me, and…" He must have passed the word along that there was truly a kind soul out there who would look after them, regardless of circumstance.

It broke her to see her precious gift and darling friend become a stray, but at least he lived a long and happy life with other cats. The same couldn't be said for her. Some days, she wished this clan would abandon her and leave her to her own devices.

"…don't make me go through this again. I'm begging you."


	3. Façade

All the adults congregated from all corners of the village to gather for a clan meeting, and something in the agenda had his mother all wound up. Sure, she tried her best to put on a good face in front of him and act like it was nothing, but Fugaku saw panic clearly written on Kazusa's worn, sturdy face. She never could mask terror very well. She always had bags under her eyes and very intense frown lines. He'd also noticed a yellowed discoloration in the whites.

Anyone over the age of twelve (or of genin rank) could join the adults, provided they didn't blab to their kid siblings and little cousins about what the adults did behind closed doors. Sanjo, one of the less scrupulous teenagers, used to spoil Fugaku by feeding him all _kinds_ of juicy dirt, but Fugaku strongly suspected his parents found out because Sanjo was now stuck on babysitting duty.

There were about nine of them in total with Sanjo "watching." The term was one he used quite liberally in this case, mostly because Sanjo invited a girl over and she had his undivided attention. Whoever she was, she didn't belong to the clan and she'd swiped a bottle of sake from her parents. Those two were being bad kids together, curious to see how many places on Sanjo's skinny, lanky body the girl could leave lipstick marks. "Psssssst," the girl whispered. "Fugaku-kun. C'mere."

To hell with that! Whatever Sanjo and his girlfriend were doing, he wanted no part of it. He had other plans. "Want to play mahjong or something?" He needed three more people in total to sit at the table with him. Two of the kids were his age and maybe he could convince a nine-year-old girl to join, too. "I can set up."

Already, he noted the excited gleam in the eyes of his "cousin" Kaede. The only reason he used the term at all was because he had to call Naho "auntie" and this was her daughter. Another little girl eagerly made her way over, tottering on awkward three-year-old legs, insisting that she wanted to play. "Mi-chan, you're too little. Go play with the babies." That merited a tantrum. The toddler flopped onto her rump, flailed her fat legs, and threw a doll at Fugaku. She missed, which only made her bawl louder than before.

"Hey. Don't be a dick to the little kids," Sanjo growled from the couch, but he sounded about as fervent in that statement as a half-asleep dog growling lowly at a passerby. Well, that and he also sounded muffled because that girl's face was latched onto his for dear life. She was kissing him so intensely that Fugaku couldn't help but wonder if she was trying to suck out Sanjo's soul.

If he could ignore the angry toddler as she howled and flailed her arms and legs around like an upside-down crab, then maybe this would be a good game. Kaede knew how to play and the other two kids who seemed to be on board for a round of the game weren't too shabby, either. "Mom says we should enjoy the game while we can," Fugaku told them. "Once we activate our sharingan, we'll get bored."

He could understand why. The basic thing about Mahjong was that, no matter what, you had to watch other people's hands and figure out which tiles were placed where before turning them upside down. The only people who played this game in the clan were the children because the adults all cheated. Some things (like playing poker with a member of the Hyūga Clan) simply weren't fun.

"You mean _if_ ," Kaede grumbled, propping her head up with a hand. She had jet black hair in serpentine curls, just like her mother's, and a set of microbangs that Fugaku secretly thought made his cousin look like a brat. All of it was tied back with a big, sparkly pink ribbon. "Not everyone activates their sharingan."

"I don't know about you, but _I_ will," Fugaku insisted, proudly putting his hand to his chest. "What kind of a clan head would I be if I didn't?" They all knew he was next in line. The boys at the table nodded along in agreement. This logic made sense to them, but Kaede could be such a downer once a bad mood caught her. That's why he'd do what he could do dispel her. "And you will, too. Your mom is one of the most powerful people in the clan. _My_ mom admires her."

"…doesn't mean anything." She let loose a small huff and pulled her tiles to the East Wind corner where she sat. "It doesn't mean anything at all."

…

They shared the same class. Always, Fugaku found himself at the top. Anything short of that would be an insult to the clan and his family's aspirations. Still, every time he brought home a perfect score, Kazusa put it on the refrigerator, left it there for about a week, and gloated to the other mothers about her gifted child.

 _He's such a pain_ , Kazusa would say. _Inconsiderate thing keeps bringing home more trophies, and you can guess who has to clean them all. You're lucky your kid doesn't bring things like home. You have so much free time because there's no trophies for your family to display._

"I heard what sensei said about you earlier." Kaede's glances kept going toward the ground rather than at her cousin. The boy behind her, a brown-haired Shimura boy with sleepy-looking eyes, kept trying to untie her ribbon, only to face innocence whenever eyes were on him. "They said you're showing more promise than they've seen in years. You could graduate soon. Maybe even in a year or two."

These were nice things Kaede had to say, but Fugaku didn't like the way she said them. There was always this defeatist tone to her voice, like these things were great for others but she'd never be able to achieve them for herself. He didn't buy into that at all. The fact of the matter was Kaede never applied herself to anything. She floated through life like a living raincloud. Before it even left her lips, he knew what would come out next. "Your mom's gonna be proud."

Her hand clenched the handle of her lunchbox so tightly that Fugaku could see Kaede's knuckles turn white. "You're plenty capable," he reminded her. "We're from the same clan. We have a _knack_ for this." She chewed her lip and walked a little faster. "What did you get on that test?"

Judging from how intense Kaede's frown was, he had a sneaking suspicion she slept through half the test again. She'd never apply herself. She'd never stand up for herself, either. Whenever other kids made rude comments or bullied her, all Kaede did was hug herself and cry. Every last thing got bottled up. "7 out of 10."

That was almost a failing grade. There was no way in hell Fugaku could come home with a grade like that. It never happened, _ever_ , but he knew full well that in the event that it did…? His father wouldn't speak to him for days and his mother would give him _the look_. She'd see it as a personal affront, as if he'd intentionally done it to shame her.

"You _passed_." That was about as nice a thing as he could say, but it was tiring having to constantly console someone who wouldn't do a damn thing to help herself. "That's a start." His patted Kaede's back, but felt her turn rigid. Her hands looked sore from clenching the lunchbox so tightly. "Listen. They're giving a retest out to anyone who scored lower than 7.5. I got a perfect 10. I don't mind practicing with you until we get it–"

It came out of nowhere and he had no idea plastic could hurt _that_ much. It collided with his head so abruptly that he felt a sharp pain in his mouth. Fugaku staggered backwards, landing on his back, and tasted something hot and metallic in his mouth. Then something _hard_ landed on his tongue.

A tooth. _She'd knocked out one of his teeth_.

"MUST BE GREAT, BEING SO PERFECT!" Kaede snapped. "SHE LOVES YOU MORE! SHE WISHES THEY COULD _TRADE_!" She dropped the box, spilling her cookies and fruit cup on impact, and ran off.

…

"The hell happened to you?" Kazusa's eyes had mostly been on dinner until she saw her son's split lip and bloodied mouth. Fugaku held out the tooth, secretly relieved it was a baby tooth. "Who beat you up?" She sounded worried. "Was it that Akimichi boy again?"

There was a bigger, meaner kid in his class who kept insisting he'd be the alpha ninja someday. Fugaku made the mistake of muttering under his breath that he doubted it, considering the kind of _grades_ that loser brought home, and this boy had it out for him ever since. Once a month or so, he'd come back to the compound with a fat lip, a black eye, or some other miscellany of scratches and bruises.

"Kaede." Now Kazusa's attention was undivided on her son, all as if she were in shock at what he had to say. "It was _Kaede_." Even Sarani lifted his head up from the paper at this revelation. "She got a bad grade and I offered to help her practice. Then…" He pantomimed it. Wham. Pow. Right in the kisser.

Kazusa's face seemed to sink at those words. Dinner was completely abandoned by now. She opened the freezer, took out an ice pack, and dropped everything to tend to her son. It didn't help matters when he opened his mouth wide to show her the missing tooth.

Something had her all wound up and he could see it. He could _feel_ it. "That family…" Her voice was shaky. "They're having some problems right now. You don't have to talk to Kaede unless you want to. You don't have to help her."

"No one else will. That's the problem. Even _oba-san_ spends more time with me." Not that he understood why. Sometimes, the way she looked at him made him uncomfortable. "Kaede says _oba-san_ loves me more. Is that…" That was impossible. Parents weren't supposed to do that.

"Kaede just likes to feel sorry for herself, son." But why? "Your _oba-san_ has an interest in you because you're smart and talented, just like her. Kaede's _not_. Love doesn't have anything to do with it."

"Do you think if Kaede tried, then–"

"It's probably moot." She waved her hand dismissively. "Not your problem. She's just being a dumb girl. She'll grow out of it."


	4. Amulet

"There's nothing to be afraid of. Your mother and father are highly decorated shinobi in this village. They'll be home again before you know it." He knew his aunt was trying to be a comforting presence, but he wasn't sure how close he wanted to get to her after the incident with Kaede. A parent needed to put their children first, _not_ somebody else's child. That's how he felt and he wasn't sure if he could forgive his aunt on this one.

"I'm not afraid," he huffed, but he was. Deep down, this terrified him. A girl in his class recently lost her mother in combat. When he voiced his concerns about that to a distant older cousin he admired, just wanting to hear that his classmate would be fine, that wasn't what he heard in response. Sanjo just mumbled something under his breath that he'd heard a rumor that kids who lost a parent got automatic perfect marks for the semester-and the whole _year_ if they were completely orphaned.

That didn't interest Fugaku in the slightest. That was something he could do on his own if he studied enough and trained hard. All he wanted was for his parents to return from their A-Rank mission in one piece. "You're _sure_ they'll be fine, Naho- _oba_?"

What weighed on his conscience the most was that his parents broke tradition this time around. It wasn't so much a clan tradition as it was a _Kazusa and Sarani_ tradition. The both of them would go on patrol around the village with a copy of their son's Academy portrait tucked away in their flak jacket. The reason was every bit as simple as it was sweet: so he'd be close to their heart at all times.

Naho poked at her meal, only occasionally taking bites of the octopus. "You don't give your parents enough credit. As elite as they are, they'll probably only be gone for a couple of weeks. These things _happen_ sometimes. It's part of being a ninja."

Dinner was awkward, mostly because Naho came by to cook for him and brought her daughter along. Fugaku would have preferred it if his aunt came by later with leftovers or something, mostly because he could read Kaede's expressions all too well. _See_? She wanted to say. _I told you. She loves you more_.

His mother's words echoed in his head on that, too: that Kaede was being overly sensitive to this and love had nothing to do with it. The reason Naho- _oba_ kept coming over here was because she saw potential in him she wanted to nurture. Either that or Kazusa pushed her to do it and Kazusa was used to getting her way on everything.

"It isn't the end of the world if they _don't_ come back," Kaede pointed out, a sneer on her face. She was usually such a nice, sweet girl, but lately? _Lately_ , she made him uncomfortable. "My mother's about ready to adopt you as is."

It wasn't a nice thing to do, but he kicked her under the table for that. _Hard_.

…

Even though he wrapped himself in his favorite blankets and arranged his body into a position that typically guaranteed him a good night's rest, Fugaku couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought about a girl in his class who recently lost her mother in the line of duty.

At first, everyone had been sympathetic toward Shinohara Mitsumi. The other girls brought her flowers and even took turns bringing extra bento lunches so Mitsumi wouldn't have to fix meals for a while. Even some of the ruder boys eased up and went out of their way to be nice. Losing a parent was a tragedy very few of them had experienced and, for the most part, their academy class consisted of considerate kids.

Fugaku opened the door for Mitsumi and let her cut ahead of him in line. Every little thing counted, right? He'd even chosen to say nothing to the teachers when he caught her in the hall without a pass earlier in the week.

But now he couldn't get her out of his head because he had to wonder what it would be like to come home every day to an empty house. Could he even _call_ his home empty? With his parents' smiling faces in almost every photo, this house would be littered with grinning ghosts.

What if he never went fishing with his father again? What if the big bear hug his mother gave him on her way out the door was the last one he'd ever feel?

Worst of all, he'd done something at the request of his father that far from endeared him to his mother. Behind Kazusa's back, Sarani began asking friends and coworkers to see if anyone would be interested in adopting a cat. He'd prompted Fugaku to ask his classmates the same thing. So far, Fugaku was able to relocate six cats. Sarani managed _twenty-four_. They only had four in the house now.

The last conversation Fugaku had with Kazusa was an argument and a _heated_ one at that. Fugaku regretted every word and fought back tears by the time his mother finished yelling. He never meant to hurt her feelings or say half the awful things that came out of his mouth. He didn't mean to drag Sarani into it, either. There was a chance they wouldn't come back _at all_ and this weighed so heavily on his mind that he felt ill.

They'd never know he did this, but he left his room (and silently cursed when he stepped on a dulled-down shuriken Kazusa gave him as a toy) and went into the master bedroom. Right away, he smelled the sickly combination of cat-box and burned incense. To most, the scent was nauseating. Even to him, it was, but at least it felt _safe_.

The mattress was so worn that he could clearly tell which side was Sarani's and which side was Kazusa's. They'd sleep back to back, spine to spine. His father slept in a straight line and his mother curled into the fetal position. Sliding under the comforter, Fugaku flopped between the two indentations and allowed himself to rest on his stomach. One arm went to stretch over Kazusa's circle. The other stretched over Sarani's line.

' _I don't want to pretend. I just want you to come home so I can tell you I'm sorry.'_

 _…_

"Hey, Shinohara." She was a nice girl and he liked her well enough, but Fugaku felt a bit ashamed for waiting this long to talk to her…considering _why_ he wanted to talk. Hadn't she been through enough already? "Is it alright if I sit with you?"

The Shinohara family didn't hail from a clan, at least not one of Konoha's recognized ones. Mitsumi's father wasn't even a ninja. She tucked some of her rust-colored hair behind her ear and offered a tiny smile. "Go ahead. I wanted to pick a quiet spot to have my lunch. The girls are starting to drive me crazy."

"Because of…"

Because of _what happened_. It didn't even need to be finished. Mitsumi knew what Fugaku planned to say. She frowned. "It's all they'll talk about. They want to know how it happened and how much I miss my mom and what's going to happen to me and I don't know. What I _do_ know is that I don't like this. She died a hero and I'm going to miss her every day.

"These same girls didn't even pay attention to me in kunoichi preschool. It's only now that I'm _the girl with the dead mom_ that they pretend to care." She rolled her brown eyes and leaned against a tree in the playground. "But you'll see. Once it happens to someone else, they'll move on. Then I'll be old news again and they'll leave me alone."

She opened up her bento and pulled out a pickled plum. There was a packet of seaweed and rice crackers in there, too. She opened the packet and gave one to Fugaku. "Kaede's an Uchiha, too. Are you two cousins? If you're not, I'm sorry. It's just-"

"We're _something_ like that."

"Well, Kaede's the only girl in the whole bunch that I think _really_ cares." Kaede had done more than the others. She didn't just bring food. She brought hugs, invitations to sleepovers at her big house, and a shoulder to cry on. "You've been nice, too; opening the door for me and stuff." She smirked. "I even remember you kept your mouth shut when I ditched genjutsu practice."

Fugaku glanced down at his own lunch, feeling a bit ill because Naho packed it for him. Her cooking wasn't anywhere near as good as his mother's. "I did all that because you're a good person, Shinohara. You always have been." And she probably always would be. "I know you're probably sick and tired of hearing it, but if there's anything I can do–"

This time, she laughed and scooted a bit closer. "You're not so bad yourself. Are you serious, though?" He nodded. "Think I can convince you to help me with my shuriken technique after school? My dad won't mind. He gets home late."

…

She'd never be a shinobi superstar. Anyone with eyes could see that. Still, Mitsumi swayed and moved with a dancer's grace. Her best scores were always in taijutsu, even though her aim with weapons was terrible. She blamed her bad eyesight for that.

It eventually dawned on Fugaku that this was the first friend he'd invited over to the Uchiha compound since his failed visit with Utatane Tohru. True, Tohru invited him over sometimes, but that wasn't the same. "Not bad! That's a very impressive grouping on the practice dummy."

"Says the top of the class!" Mitsumi countered back, finger-brushing her kinky hair to keep it out of her freckled face. "It's getting late. I'll be fine going home, but won't your parents worry if you stay out? I…" Her laughter was a bit nervous. "I've seen your mother on patrol a few times. She's kind of intimidating, like I don't want to get on her bad side. Eheheheheheheh…"

The laughter stopped when she saw Fugaku turn pale. Mitsumi's big brown eyes widened at that. "You okay there, Fugaku-kun?" He muttered something inaudible, unable to look at her. "Sorry. I didn't catch that."

"Nobody's home. The Hokage sent them on an A-Rank and it's been _days_." It'd been over a week since he last heard anything. "I just can't shake the feeling they're gone for good." Now Mitsumi was shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I'm probably sound every bit as insincere as those girls you were talking about."

She didn't say anything else, but she _did_ smile faintly before turning her back to him and walking out. Mitsumi waved goodbye from behind and just kept on until she reached the gate.

' _I'm a horrible person.'_ She had to be in so much pain and yet he made this all about himself. What was wrong with him? He'd apologize again in class the following day–that or he'd invite her over to practice more frequently.

The thing was he really did _like_ her. Mitsumi was a quiet girl who liked to read. Her interests were mostly in cryptography and code breaking. Maybe he could be more sincere about all this later and tell her in a full apology that he didn't mean to sound so selfish, but it was time to return to his empty home.

The sky changed to twilight shades and he caught sight of a firefly here and there. His fat old tabby sat outside the house, snoozing by the koi pond. His tail twitched in his sleep, as did his face and paws. Fugaku tiptoed closer, not wanting to wake the animal, but he very much wanted to pet him.

In another hour or so, his aunt and Kaede would be here with food. They volunteered to do laundry, too. At least, that's what Naho said yesterday and he wasn't sure if she changed her mind. Right as he reached for the front door, something else was different: _the lights were on and he heard people talking_.

The conversation was quiet and hard to decipher, but he recognized the voices right away. They were home! " _Okaa-san! Otou-san_!" Without any further regard in his mind, Fugaku stormed in there and tackled his parents. Kazusa let loose a loud laugh and hugged him back, nuzzling her face into his hair. Sarani, on the other hand, let loose a huff of pain because of _where_ his son hit him by mistake.

"How was your mission? Are you okay?! I didn't hear anything and–" The words spewed out of his mouth like water. The floodgates were wide open and he couldn't contain himself. "You didn't take a picture with you, so…no good luck charm…girl in class lost her mom… _empty house_ …" It made no sense, but they didn't even seem to care.

" _That's_ what all this fuss is over: that we didn't take your photo with us for good luck?" Kazusa laughed at that as she let go. "Dear, you know _why_ we didn't this time, right…?"

…

"Please. Not that one." Itachi's tiny face puffed up with indignation. "Let me pick."

It was one of those little things Fugaku did out of habit if the only place he planned on going that day was within village limits. Family pictures needed to stay within Konoha borders, just in case an enemy captured him. Families _weren't_ off limits and children (especially clan children) were so valuable.

The mere thought of _anyone_ going after his three-year-old son was enough to keep him up at night. As much as the clan meant to Fugaku, this little boy was the center of his universe. His own parents died seven years before Itachi was born, but they would have been _so proud_. If the pride Kazusa had in Fugaku was any indicator, she would have worshiped the ground her grandson walked on.

"This one."

Of course he'd want that picture. It was a sneak-attack photo Mikoto swiped of the two men in her life falling asleep in the same chair. Itachi was all sprawled out like a stranded starfish with an arm covering Fugaku's snoring face. Compared to the professionally-taken family photo Fugaku selected, this one felt more personal: a true snapshot in time. All he had to do was give his son a look and the boy scampered off.

"I think it's sweet that you do this." Mikoto smiled, stepping into the room. "Keeping a picture of Itachi in your jacket means he's closer to your heart than anything else, right?"

"…yeah. Yeah, it's tradition."


	5. Old Sentiments

"We're gonna play in the woods after class. You should come with us!" Tohru's grayish-green eyes were wide and bright with twinkling excitement. "I told the other boys we'd have more fun with more players. Are you in?"

Utatane Tohru was Fugaku's closest friend outside of the clan. Although Tohru hadn't come back to visit his house (even after Sarani and Fugaku found new homes for most of Kazusa's cats), Fugaku had been in Tohru's home a good number of times.

It was a neat, tidy house belonging only to Tohru and his widowed mother who spoiled him. They ate the best food, drank the best water, and played with the best toys when he visited. Fugaku wasn't blind to that, either. He was old enough recognize how _much_ nicer Tohru's home was. He'd made a comment about it to his mother once and all she had to say on the matter was that Tohru's mother was revered as a village hero and held a high position of authority. Utatane Koharu _earned_ that house–but he heard the envy in Kazusa's voice. The Uchiha head was transparent in her jealousy.

Tohru also happened to be the most-liked boy in the class. Fugaku was unaware of this statement until Shinohara Mitsumi, a girl friend of his, confessed her crush over lunch. Apparently, he'd buddied up to the class heartthrob without even realizing it. Now Mitsumi and even _Kaede_ wanted to take advantage of this and use Fugaku as a love note mule. He'd put his foot down in regard to that.

He saw why everyone liked Tohru so much. He was smart, good-looking, and very friendly until people gave him good reason to act otherwise. Most importantly, he was a confident extrovert and an optimist to boot. The way he talked drew people in–well, it certainly drew _Fugaku_ in. The only thing that didn't work in Tohru's favor was that he wasn't a natural leader. He was everyone's pal, yes, but he was more of a follower. Just as the world needed dogs, it needed sheep too. Tohru was irrefutably a sheep.

Venturing off into the woods with Tohru and some of his other classmates sounded like a great idea. Fugaku could hardly contain his excitement. "Who all is coming?" he asked, secretly hoping that his least favorite classmate didn't receive an invite. As Tohru babbled off a few names, Fugaku nodded his head. No alarms went off in his head because he knew these other kids. From what he'd observed over the past two years sharing an Academy class with these boys, every last one of them seemed nice.

Kazusa couldn't stress enough how important it was for him to make friends outside of the bloodline. A failure to do so would only alienate him in the future, making him an ineffective clan head and less influential in the eyes of the village. It wasn't enough to work hard to earn the respect and acknowledgment of the Uchiha as a worthwhile future leader. He needed other friends, too. And as pragmatic as it sounded, Kazusa and Sarani were the _most_ enthusiastic about Tohru because of all the potential doors that friendship could open for their child.

Class couldn't go by fast enough. They endured a pop quiz on village history at the end of the day, but that was of no consequence to a boy who trained and studied as hard as Fugaku did. Discipline went a long way. He probably didn't get a perfect score this time because he was distracted by daydreams of the wilderness. Today, Fugaku knew his parents return home at a late hour. They'd taken the picture with them, so at least he knew they were in the village, but they did notify him this morning that he was on his own for dinner tonight.

Maybe he and Tohru could buy something from the street vendors and make an evening of it after the other guys went home.

…

Fugaku was early to arrive at the rally point. In fact, only one boy beat him there: Inuzuka Neyuki.

He hadn't made much effort to get to know Neyuki, mostly because he'd made remarks in the past about how he'd sooner die than hang out with a crazy cat lady's son. Fugaku's response was to inform the boy that was fine. He'd rather not make friends with a guy who chronically smelled like a wet dog. He'd expected a fight. All he got instead was a loud, annoying laugh because Neyuki found that sort of thing funny.

"I can't believe you're late, _Uchiha-kun_ ," he growled teasingly. His puppy yipped excitedly, thinking the Uchiha's leg looked nice enough to proposition.

"I'm not late, Neyuki." Technically, nobody would be late for another five minutes.

The Inuzuka flashed a sharp-toothed grin at the Uchiha boy and poked Fugaku's stomach with a sharp and slightly long fingernail. "You're usually first at everything, but you came in second today. Tsk, tsk. Losing your A-game so quickly. Baaaad." It was playful teasing and it merited a playful shove in response. Neyuki continued making that growling noise between his laughs as he shoved Fugaku back. They fell into a seemingly endless immature pattern: pushing each other back and forth between grunts and chuckles.

At one point, Neyuki succeeded in knocking Fugaku down. He laughed loudly, taking that moment to open his mouth wide and blow his stinky breath on the shorter boy. Fugaku squirmed, trying to gain enough force to roll over, but the Inuzuka had him pinned. "Cut it out!" he growled. "Your breath smells like hot garbage!"

"Aww," a third voice piped in, indicating that the next party member had arrived. Fugaku looked up to see a brown-haired boy with glasses, whom he quickly recognized from class as Shimura Mikuro.

Mikuro's father was a well-known artist and had painted portraits for all three Hokages, as well as many clan heads and the Fire Daimyo. One of his murals even stood proudly in the Academy. However, Fugaku (like most kids) knew Mikuro's father better as the creator of a locally popular children's manga. Despite (or perhaps due to) this, Mikuro avoided the kids who read _Happy God-kun_ like the plague. Fugaku had never played with this boy before, seeing as Mikuro mostly kept to himself, but he knew the Shimura boy was another one of Tohru's close friends. So he was hopeful.

Fugaku kicked and flailed again, trying to make Neyuki ease off him, but anyone observing could easily misconstrue what was going on. "Am I missing something here?" Mikuro smirked, lifting his head mockingly. "Are you boys making out?" Mikuro had made jokes like that within earshot before, almost to the point where Fugaku strongly suspected this kid was in the closet.

"You wish!" Neyuki got off Fugaku and grinned wildly. "I'm just glad Tohru was able to convince you to join us, Fugaku. You usually keep to yourself: so quiet, so mysterious!"

"Tch. _So_ _gloomy_ is more like it." Mikuro fumbled with his glasses and let loose a slightly nasal whine. "And speaking of Tohru, here he comes with His Royal Highness."

Fugaku didn't need to attach a name to that nickname. He simply knew by principle alone who Mikuro was talking about. Senju Nawaki, the First Hokage's grandson, was in their class and fiercely proud of his heritage. The boy would tell anyone who listened all about the grandfather he admired but never met. Sure, Nawaki could be a little annoying at times, but Fugaku wasn't a fan of Mikuro's tone. His opinion of the Shimura boy only worsened after Mikuro did a mean-spirited impersonation of Nawaki, blathering on and on about how he wanted to be Hokage just like his grandpa and how the Senju Clan was the best clan, blah blah blah…

According to Kazusa, there was a lot of bad blood between the Senju and Uchiha, but every time Fugaku asked for more details, she'd just wave her hand dismissively and say she'd tell him when he was older. He didn't think he had it in him to hate someone on sight the way some of the older people in the clan did. He just found people who bragged about their heritage annoying, especially when they didn't do a damn thing to show _why_ their line was so great.

"Sorry we're late!" Tohru beamed, grinning from ear to ear. "I wanted to get us something for the afternoon. Look!" He'd bought an assortment of cookies from an Akimichi bakery. Every last one of them looked delicious. Fugaku could even smell one of the spice cookies from a few feet away. "Nawaki picked them out."

"Well, whoop de freaking doo. We gonna go in the woods now or what?"

…

It was the best afternoon he'd had in a long time. Hanging out with Mitsumi in the library was nice. So was going over to Tohru's home to play a board game and sleep over. But sometimes a boy needed to be a boy and burn off all that extra energy. He'd never confronted the other boys in class, mostly choosing to keep to himself, but he was so _glad_ Tohru broke the ice for him.

They wanted to split up for the play-war, but they had an odd number. Already, Fugaku saw the problem: one group would need to take three people, the other two. If Fugaku had his choice, he'd volunteer to be on the two-man squad and do his best to hold his own. It could be a challenge, and he'd want to pick someone like Tohru or Mikuro to keep it fair. That or he'd pick Nawaki and treat the whole thing like a handicap. He didn't seem _that–_

"I don't want you on my team, Nawaki! You're gonna slow me down!"

"You don't have to be so _rude_ about it, Neyuki!" Great. This was around the point where Tohru would offer to sit this one out to make things fair, then _everyone_ would give dirty looks to Nawaki…but it didn't happen.

"I don't see any problem with there being five of us. It can still be fair." Whoa. He hadn't expected to hear that out of _Mikuro_ of all people. "Nawaki can play Hokage, even."

Upon realizing the others would satiate his desire to take the Hokage's role in their play war, Nawaki's eyes practically turned into stars. It didn't take much to excite him, it seemed.

"But that means two of us get to be the bad guys."

Oh no.

"And to keep it _fair…_ "

No. _No, he didn't_. He _wouldn't._

"Fugaku, how would you feel about being Mada–"

"Are you trying to bait me!?" He knew where Mikuro was going before he even finished that statement. Uchiha Madara was another village founder, but he wasn't a revered name. If anything, he was a feared one. Even the Uchiha didn't want to talk much about him. If the only thing these boys saw in him was _Madara_ , just because he was another Uchiha, then what did that say about the rest of the class–or the rest of the _village,_ for that matter?

Was this why people smiled nervously and avoided eye contact with his mother? Or why everyone's conversations turned to whispers whenever they saw an Uchiha on patrol? Or why their instructor undermined every accomplishment Fugaku made by saying this was expected from _such an elite clan_?

"The fuck's wrong with you? You can't just _say_ shit like that!" Neyuki sounded almost sincere, but Fugaku caught a hitch in his voice, too. Tohru was standing there in silence, too mortified to speak.

Fugaku clenched a fist, finding the strength to voice his malcontent. "If that's really how you feel, you'll have your even number. I'm _out_." He wasn't going to participate if that was the kind of attitude these guys had toward him. Wait until he sat down and told his parents about this. He could just _imagine_ the look on Kazusa's face when–

"Wait. Please!" Tohru ran over toward Fugaku, grabbing his wrist. Fugaku tugged it back, only for Tohru to try it again. "I'm sorry."

"Why are _you_ apologizing? _You_ didn't say it!"

"For fuck's sake. I meant it as a _compliment_. Don't be so sensitive." Mikuro had his hand on his hip, clearly unwilling to apologize. "Is he always this thin-skinned, Tohru?"

…

Finally, he conceded to play. They had to surrender all their spice cookies to him as compensation for this slight, but Fugaku decided to give his peers another chance. He even agreed to pair off with Mikuro as a sign of good faith and play the role they wanted. All the while, he saw the silent, gracious smile on Tohru's face. His friend silently mouthed a _thank you_ , but Fugaku didn't want it. Not this time.

The other three put up a better fight than he initially expected. Tohru was a mediocre combatant and really only brought home stellar grades when it came to essays and history tests. It showed in combat, but he tried his hardest to keep up. Nawaki was enthusiastic, but loud. It wasn't difficult to find and subdue him. The greatest challenge ended up being Neyuki. Fugaku couldn't sneak up on him, no matter how hard he tried. That guy always smelled him coming and moved like a mad dog.

A bit into the play-fight, he realized how much of an adrenaline rush it gave him to be bad. "Defect," he got to say to Tohru, pointing a wooden kunai to his neck. They all knew it wasn't real, but they'd really gotten into this crazy little psychodrama they'd acted out for _hours_ now.

In their minds, this was the battle to end all battles: the war that would determine the final fate of the Hidden Leaf. The Hokage and his compatriots banded together to protect the village they fought and labored to create their whole lives. On the opposite side was the wrathful ghost of the bloodied feudal past: embittered by the hypocrisy and insincerity of that dream.

" _Join_ me, Utatane," he hissed in his friend's ear, poking him a little harder with the fake weapon. "Your precious Hokage is tied to a tree. He won't be helping anyone."

"LIKE _HELL_ I WON'T!" Nawaki yelled, flailing his legs. "YOU THINK THIS CAN CONTAIN A SENJU? I'LL USE MY MOKUTON!"

"Shut up, loser. You don't know how to do that!" Neyuki yelled, only to shout a string of profanities when Mikuro came out of the shadows and pounced on him. It didn't matter if he smelled him; Mikuro moved too fast and knocked the boy out of the trees. Both tumbled to the ground, landing in some prickly bushes.

"Give up?" Mikuro grinned, pulling the fluffy part of Neyuki's parka close to him. "You _should_. It's the only way you're coming out of this alive, dog man." Neyuki bit him. "OWWWW. That _hurt_!"

"That's the spirit! Kick his ass, Neyuki! Save your Hokage!"

"Bitch, if I _survive_ this, _I_ need to be Hokage. Fuck your weak Senju ass, Nawaki."

"You SUCK, Neyuki!" Nawaki squirmed and writhed, trying to untie himself, but then something sharp whizzed right above his head and lodged itself in the tree. He let loose a squeak of terror, looked up, and it was a real shuriken. "W-wait… _wait_ …"

 _'_ _It's a competition.'_

They needed to see for themselves why he was at the top of his class and didn't even _need_ the Sharingan to earn that rank. Of course, he knew his aim was good enough to avoid hitting Nawaki. There was no way he'd intentionally hurt this kid. Still, this was a fake war and he wanted to come out as victorious. Just because the history books said one thing didn't mean it had to end that way _this_ time.

"Surrender. Is this even still up for debate?" If they wanted him to play this role, then sure. He'd play it. "You're outmatched and always have been."

All the teachers kissed up to Nawaki and mollycoddled him just because his grandfather was the First Hokage. Those same teachers were reserved in their praise for him. That (or worse) they'd make backhanded comments. Today, he defined to all present who the better shinobi was. Mikuro and Neyuki stopped their wrestling to hear him. They were _captivated_. The spotlight was his! As Fugaku took a few steps forward, he threw another shuriken. It landed half an inch away from Nawaki's cheek. Nawaki was white as a sheet, eyes about to bug out of his head in terror. "Say it. _Forfeit_."

"No!"

"Hokage-sama, reconsider," Tohru interjected. "The fight's over. He _won_."

He had to give props to Nawaki; he really stuck to _his_ role. Fugaku smirked, thinking that maybe now would be a good time to put the shuriken away and call it a day. He'd won Tohru over and Neyuki was neutralized, so…

"You accept your defeat, then? Utatane?"

" _Yes_. I accept defeat."

"Inuzuka?"

"…better you than the big baby tied to the tree."

Then it was settled. The war was over. This time, Uchiha Fugaku overthrew the establishment and deposed the Hokage. Tohru and Neyuki bowed to their new leader and Fugaku reveled in the moment for a couple of minutes. "Okay. _Okay._ That's enough groveling. Let's untie this loser and go home."

…

"I hope you had fun." They'd gone out for sushi for dinner: Tohru's treat. This was the part of the day that he'd looked forward to the most. "Neyuki wants a rematch next week, but he wants to team up with you."

"I dunno." Fugaku shrugged his shoulders at that and popped some unagi in his mouth. Eel was a personal favorite of his. "If we do this again, I think I might want to partner up with Nawaki." Tohru seemed surprised. "Considering how easy he is to capture, I think I could use a good handicap. Don't you?"

He meant it in good fun. Nawaki wasn't all that great, but he made up for everything with his zeal and enthusiasm. Still, he noticed how pursed Tohru's smile was. "What? You know I'm _teasing_ , right?"

"I had to invite him," Tohru admitted. " _Okaa-san_ put me up to it. Nawaki-kun and I…I'm uncomfortable sometimes. It's history _everywhere_ , you know? Like that thing Mikuro said to you. That was uncalled for."

"I'm not even gonna lie. It was." But Mikuro was a spiteful kid with bigoted parents. Fugaku would let it slide this time. "Come on. Nawaki's not _that_ bad."

"Promise not to get mad if I say something?" After Fugaku promised, Tohru scooted closer and chuckled. "You _killed_ that role. I couldn't take eyes off you."


	6. Girls in Magazines

"I don't remember birthdays being this big of a deal back in _our_ day," Kazusa huffed as she sat at the table, trying her best not to gawk at the big fancy cake Naho brought over for the event. The two of them had taken the whole of the morning to decorate the house with streamers, paper lanterns, and other pretty things. Kaede helped. In fact, good girl that she was, she'd been more than happy to help.

"Yes, well…" Naho sighed as she placed ten candles on the cake. It was a beautiful koi, just like the ones in the pond outside her home. Every year, she'd bring a bigger and more intricate cake than the year before. "You have to keep in mind our parents were old enough to remember a time before the village—my brothers, too, for that matter. Children weren't expected to live that long. Now they do and we can celebrate with them. Don't you think it's _worth_ celebrating?"

"Only one birthday ever really mattered to me, and it was the one where I was given _Bōfūu_." Great. She was in one of those moods. "The rest of the time, my father just looked at me like I'd used profanity in front of him. I'd tell him what day it was and he'd just…" She cleared her throat and did her best impersonation, turning her voice gruff and low. "What do you expect me to do? Congratulate you for _existing_? Don't bother me with stupid things. I'm busy!"

Naho frowned. Her father hadn't treated her like that growing up. "Mine didn't make a big show of it, either," but at least Tenjin would bring her pretty things. If there was a toy or doll Naho wanted, he'd come back with it. As she grew from an androgynous child into a young beauty, he rewarded her for that with jewelry and garments so gorgeous that her peers stared on in envy. "But I do what I can to make Kaede's birthdays special. Don't I, dear?" Kaede forced a smile and went back to putting streamers up. "And this is for your son, our clan's heir. It's different for him."

Kazusa nodded at that. "Ten's a very special year. Fugaku is on track to graduate from the academy by the end of the term, too." She couldn't be prouder. "He told me some of his classmates want to come to the party." Hearing those words made her heart flutter. These children, children of people who continued to look at the Uchiha with either envy or hesitation, liked her son. They considered him to be their _friend_. "I'm proud of him."

It would be curious to see how many friendships survived once Fugaku became a genin and no longer went to Academy. Kazusa kept her fingers crossed for Utatane Tohru in particular, praying _that_ relationship would be the one to stand the test of time and absence. "We're almost done, right?"

Naho turned around, giving her friend a mildly indignant expression. "We would be if you actually helped me instead of _stealing icing off your own son's cake_ , _Kazusa_ , but yes. We're almost done."

…

"At least eight of them said they wanted to come here! If their parents are okay with it, then…then…" He couldn't articulate his thoughts clearly because he was so excited. "Tohru's coming back to my house, Sanjo!"

"Good for Tohru," Sanjo replied. Fugaku was well aware of the fact that the older boy didn't know his friends outside the clan, nor did he think Sanjo particularly cared. It was no secret to him that his mother tasked the surly, wiry teen with keeping him distracted for a few hours. "If he was that great of a friend, he'd visit you more."

"It was the cats, okay? All the cat pee gave him a headache, but we cleaned up." Three nights ago, Kazusa told Sarani she felt she'd sacrificed her precious pets for her son's popularity and it _sickened_ her. That argument had been explosive and things still had yet to fully calm down at the house. She'd try to reach for cats that weren't in their home anymore.

Fugaku had the feeling Sanjo wasn't terribly impressed by his friends. " _Okaa-san_ 's glad people outside the clan are coming. She doesn't want me to live in a bubble."

"Bubble or not, pipsqueak, we're your blood. No one out there's ever gonna watch your back as heavily and closely as we do."

Sanjo had a point. Then again, he always did. Fugaku didn't have any siblings, so this older boy was about as close to a cool big brother figure as he'd ever get. They weren't closely related, nor did Kazusa see Sanjo's parents as near and dear friends. They served as correctional officers at the village prison and sometimes assisted other KMPF officers with fugitive retrieval. Their hours were long and late, so their son was left to his own devices most of the time…which was probably how Sanjo kept finding new ways to get in trouble.

The fact his own home tended to be empty the vast majority of the time meant he used to volunteer to watch over the younger kids while parents were on missions. At least, he'd done that before puberty hit. Now they expected him to still do it.

"I just realized something. I'm an asshole."

"What? No you're not!" Okay, maybe not all the time.

"Yeah, I am. I didn't get you a birthday present." They were walking down a long and winding street. To the left and to the right, shops abounded. Sanjo's eyes caught sight of a bookstore and pulled Fugaku toward a bench outside. "Wait here. You're gonna be a genin by the end of the year, right?"

The boy nodded. It wasn't anything he wanted to think too heavily on, mostly because Tohru, Nawaki, Neyuki, Mitsumi, Kaede and all the others hadn't scored well enough to be considered for ascension. He'd be the only one graduating this time. Maybe Mikuro, too, if the Shimura boy could get his Taijutsu scores up, but that was a big _if_. What's worse, there was talk of another war breaking out soon. He'd probably fill as a replacement in some older team that wouldn't want him.

Honestly, the thought had crossed his mind to intentionally ruin his grades and goof off if it meant he'd get to spend more time with his friends. It was out of the question. If Kazusa found out, she'd have his hide.

Couldn't at least _one_ of his friends be viable for graduation, too, just to even things out? He'd even pick _Nawaki_ if he could, so long as it meant he didn't have to go it alone or risk being stuck with Mikuro. "I'm so nervous," he confessed. "I don't think anyone my age is graduating with me."

But Sanjo wasn't listening this time; he'd slipped into the bookstore. Fugaku heard the bell jingle as the door opened. The woman inside cooed and used her flirtiest voice with the older boy. What's worse, he could hear Sanjo flirt back until he bought something and left with his head held high.

No book in the world was going to lighten his mood, Fugaku thought. He was too old for picture books, too young for large and heavy historical tomes or technical books. Sanjo would need to work a–oh. _Hello_. What was _that_?

There, flashing before him, was a magazine with a beautiful woman on the cover. She smiled enticingly, beckoning the reader to come hither and toward her ivory skin, slightly rosy cheeks, and long cascade of garnet hair. Her eyes were gold or tawny, but they were all the way up there. Fugaku's glance went farther south, noticing the glorious bounty threatening to burst from her top.

His own face turned ruddy as he peeked at the cover of _Ninja Girl's_ August edition. "Is this what I think it is?" he inquired, raising a brow to Sanjo.

"Depends." Shit. He had that super playful tone in his voice that typically translated as _yes_. Sanjo could barely contain his laughter as he fidgeted. "What do you think it is?"

"Did you buy me a _girly mag_?" By this point, all Sanjo did was _grin_ and ruffle his hair.

"Have a little fun, alright? You'll be a genin and joining the clan meetings in a few months. People are gonna start putting more responsibility on you. You'll be a man before you know it. That means more tasks, _hard_ tasks, but adults get to do fun stuff too. Just, uh…just don't tell your parents I bought you that, 'kay? Your mom will skin me alive."

…

"Sanjo _is_ the coolest!" Nawaki laughed as he crowded into the bathroom stall with the other boys. Neyuki stared at the wonders of the female body in awe and wonder. Fugaku couldn't help but want to share with his companions. _They_ hadn't been blessed by the god of porn, cigarettes, alcohol, and snuff photos.

Besides, any excuse to do something with them and act like a kid was one he wanted to take. The fear of losing them forever once he became a genin was one he couldn't shake. If a teacher caught them, then maybe he'd be suspended for a few days and they'd re-evaluate his maturity level. More time was what he wanted most of all: _more time_.

"Just look at the tits on that one! Woooow!" Nawaki was louder than the other two, but Fugaku had already looked this thing over and "read the articles" at least seven or eight times in private. "And that _blonde_. Just…just…"

"Your sister needs to pose for this, Nawaki-kun," Neyuki teased. "I'm not even joking. Your sister's _hot_." Nawaki thumped his head for that, telling him to take it back. "She _is_ , though! Isn't she, Fugaku?"

"I guess…?" Yes, Tsunade was very pretty and blessed with an amazing figure, but his mother would be so disappointed if he admitted he found anyone with Senju blood attractive. His _dad_ wouldn't give a shit, but his _mother_?

"What are you looking at in there?" Mikuro inquired from outside the stall. "Can I see?"

"There's no more room in the stall," Tohru pointed out.

"Then come out and let me look! That or kick Nawaki out. I'm more important."

But Nawaki didn't want out. Fugaku took a deep breath, handed the magazine to Tohru, and told him to take good care of it. Tohru, he could trust. Always and forever. When he stepped out, he gestured for the Shimura boy to scramble in there, taking his place.

"So…are any of you coming to my party?" There were roars of _yes_.

…

Most of the gifts were practical in nature: weapons, medical kits, books on basic culture of other villages, a few jutsu scrolls. "These kunai feel weird," Fugaku confessed as he held up the gift from his parents. It didn't shimmer and shine the way metal was supposed to. It felt lighter, too, but he winced in pain when he touched the tip. It cut so sharply!

"That's because they're ceramic," Kazusa explained, smiling.

"So it'll break? Good to know." Neyuki whispered in Fugaku's ear, only for the boy to kick him under the table.

"I use ceramic knives all the time when I'm cutting meat and vegetables. So long as you don't hit anything hard like _bone or stone_ , those kunai will last you a lifetime." Kazusa wanted to make sure everyone knew she and Sarani put a lot of thought into this gift and intended for it to be great. "See, _metal_ dulls when it comes into contact with proteins and acids. Meat, fruit, and other things eat away at it until it's too dull and blunt to be worth anything without re-sharpening. These _stay_ sharp."

"Your mom sounds like a freaking sales person." Was he itching to get kicked a _second_ time? By comparison, he could see Nawaki's eyes eagerly glancing over the weapons, clearly wanting to hold one in his own hand.

"Your _father_ uses ceramic weapons."

There. She knew exactly what to say to have him sold on the gift. Fugaku glanced down, eager to try these out. True, he still planned on using metal weapons if he planned on hitting something hard like a _tree_ , but these could serve him well.

Before he could ask if Naho used them, too, Kaede plopped more gifts in front of him. Kaede bought him a backpack with seemingly endless pockets and pouches for everything he'd need on a long expedition. Naho's gifts were always something fancy and never failed to make Kazusa go quiet, staring at the fabric in longing. These were formal kimonos: the sort of which could only be worn for special occasions.

Fugaku's family may have been the leading family, but they weren't the wealthiest. Naho's family was affluent, pocketing extra money over the years for the multitude of tasks requested by the village that they insisted only they could achieve. There were Uchiha, yes, and they all had a _Katon_ type, but Naho came from the line of Uchiha Tenjin: the Son of a Thousand Fires. That line consisted of elite arsonists and world class saboteurs.

Every year, his aunt brought him something of top quality that he'd probably only wear once or twice in his life before he outgrew it. And every time, Kazusa stared at those beautiful garments in envy. "Thank you, Naho _oba-san_. Kaede." Kaede beamed in glee.

The gifts from his friends meant more to him. Tohru bought an assortment of high end teas for him to try. Mitsumi's gift was an autographed first edition of a book they'd both fallen in love with earlier in the year. Neyuki didn't bring anything, only because he hadn't told his father he was coming to the party. His gift was an IOU.

Nawaki presented him with what he _insisted_ was a good luck charm of some sort. "I know it's not as awesome as what Sanjo-san got for you, but–"

"Eh?" Kazusa raised her fluffy, unruly head at that. "Sanjo got you something?" She wasn't sure what to expect, but she doubted it was anything appropriate for a ten-year-old boy.

…

"He got you a _dirty magazine_?! What the hell is _wrong_ with that boy!?"

Fuck. He'd told her time and time again to knock on the door before she swung it wide open, that she'd eventually catch him doing something that would embarrass the both of them. He was right. This was that inevitable, dreadful day. Fugaku's insides churned and he quickly hid under the covers. "What's wrong with _you_?! Why didn't you knock?"

This was part of the territory when raising a son, she supposed. "You're _ten_. That's too young to be doing this kind of thing!" What was Sanjo thinking, corrupting her child like this? "You're just a baby!"

"I'm too young for this?" Fugaku peeked out from the covers, face still red and slightly sweaty. "I'm old enough to be a ninja and potentially _kill_ somebody, but I'm too young to look at girls? Right. _That_ makes sense. I'm not a little kid anymore."

Already, he knew he said too much. Kazusa came in, seething. She reached for the magazine, ripping it out of his hands, and made an audible squawk when she realized it wasn't exactly _clean_. That didn't stop her from rolling it up as tight as she could and smacking him with it. "Yeah, you _are_. That boy…he had no right to… _no right_ …"

It didn't hurt, what she was doing. Not much, anyway. He just felt this was unfair. Either she'd shelter him or she'd treat him like an adult, but Kazusa wanted it both ways. "I better not see another one of these in the house until you're _fourteen_." The door closed and Kazusa left.

She wouldn't notice the ceramic shuriken lodged in the wall for another two days.


	7. Sakana no Kami

"You were supposed to be watching them during processing! The hell were you really doing, you two?!" His mother was about ready to rip her hair out. Fugaku could tell. He also knew who this couple happened to be and couldn't help but notice the woman sported a colorful mark on her neck. Her face was ruddy and so was the man's.

The pair kept exchanging glances at each other, both with the telltale twitching of those doing their best to hold in nervous laughter because they understood how inappropriate it was. "Do I have to split you up? You're adults. You're _parents_ , for heaven's sake!"

True, they were, but they were _Sanjo's_ parents. They worked longer hours than most, considering they served as correctional officers and (when necessary) a makeshift fugitive retrieval team. "Kitaro, Nanami? I don't even know where to _begin_."

"We're sorry, Kazusa-taichou," Nanami spoke up, putting her hand to her hickey. "It's just…the new uniforms came in and we wanted to try them on. You should have seen how sharp Kitaro looked." Kitaro chuckled anxiously and fidgeted, nudging his wife's ankle with the tip of his foot. She swung her foot back so he'd hit the wall instead.

' _Just how old are you two, anyway?'_ Fugaku wondered, though this did shed more light on why Sanjo behaved the way he did. His parents looked young, maybe in their early thirties at most. Even more telling was that they _acted_ young: like a couple of love-struck teenagers rather than the parents of one.

Kazusa's fingernails dug into his shoulders, causing the boy to make a small noise. "You can fool around and act like a couple of disappointments at home and on your own time. Thanks to you, _that man_ broke out of processing and could be halfway to the border by now! If you _lose_ him…" Her hands shook and her voice jumped an octave before cracking. She was worked up, ready to blow. " _I'm_ getting involved."

" _Okaa-san_ ," Fugaku interrupted, giving her a concerned glance. "That's prison work. I thought you and _otou-san_ were–"

"It can't be helped," she grunted in annoyance. "Sometimes, if you want something done right, or at all, you have to do it yourself." He couldn't see her face from this angle, but he didn't need to. When Kazusa talked like that, her already haggard face turned surly. She wanted to shout and curse a blue streak at these two for carelessly allowing a criminal to escape.

"How long do you think it's going to take?" Fugaku had his reasons for asking, of course; his graduation ceremony was this upcoming Monday. Unless anything changed since Thursday, he'd be the only child in his class to graduate for this term. The ceremony would be his and _only_ his. How rare was that? That had to set some kind of precedent. But judging from the apologetic expression his mother gave him, he knew the answer before Kazusa even uttered a word.

' _You aren't going to be there. This isn't an overnight thing. It could be days.'_

Whoever this fugitive was, Fugaku hoped his mother caught him quickly and made him pay. He didn't care who this man was or what he'd done. This felt like a personal affront and he couldn't mask his disappointment. "Right. I'll just go home."

All he got in condolence was a quick ruffling of his hair, nothing more. By that point, Kazusa's attention already returned to the two who failed. "You hear that? _Do you_? I'm missing my son's graduation, just so I can fix your fuck-up. You _worthless_ wastes of space! I could…I could _just_ …"

There was no point in sticking around for the rest of his mother's tirade. It wasn't directed at him. Even with several yards between them, he could still hear her mouthing off and venting her frustration. ' _This isn't about you,'_ he thought bitterly. _'Don't make it about you.'_ But she did it every time. It was _always_ her sacrifices and her vainglory. Look at how much she gave up, just to keep them all safe and happy!

What a joke.

…

"Your mother's very upset that she can't make it to your graduation." Sarani put his glasses back on the table. Kazusa came home in full rant mode an hour or so ago. She packed her things, muttering dozens of grievances and inequities under her breath the entire time, and stomped off in indignation. Her son listened in, but he didn't dare go near her when she was _that_ wound up. "Fugaku…you heard me, right?"

"It doesn't matter," he grumbled, poking his head out from his bedroom doorway. This was merely another routine he knew by heart. Kazusa would rage out and Sarani would end up having to act as a mediator and emotional interpreter. "I'm not accepting her apology until I hear it in _her_ words."

This meant the world to him and she blew it. Most of the time, he could admire Kazusa and agree that, yes, she sacrificed herself time and time again for the sake of the village and the Uchiha, but this was inexcusable. He'd only turn ten once and he'd only graduate from the academy once. It wasn't even like he had any siblings where she'd have another opportunity to stand there proud.

Fuck her. And fuck her for making his father play middle man again. " _You're_ still going, right?" If Sarani bailed, too–

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm even taking the day off, just to make sure I'll be there." Of course. He'd assumed this whole time that Kazusa would do that, too. Heaven help this family if something else came up, which it probably would. Sarani could see the distrust on his son's face and frowned. "Do you want it in writing, my little cynic?"

He could already hear it now. They'd both bail. Something would come up and the only person who would stand there to congratulate him would be Aunt Naho. The mere thought made him feel ill with anger. "You think I'm being unreasonable, don't you?" Sarani said nothing. "This isn't the first time she's pulled something like this and it won't be the last. This was really important to me! I'm gonna _graduate_ and…"

Sarani had to squint to see the amount of resentment on his child's face. As soon as he did, he crouched down to embrace him. "I'm _not_ going to miss this. A war can break out for all I care. I'll be there."

…

Sarani's solution to any problem involved meditating until a rational solution made itself known. In his opinion, the best means of clearing one's mind meant sitting in the same spot for hours, becoming one with nature, and focusing on one task alone. Nothing quite achieved this more effectively than fishing.

What if Kazusa returned home, reached critical mass from the stress of her day, and went on an hour-long rant about the unfairness of her job? _Go fish_. What if a close friend in the clan (or outside of it) died in the line of duty? _Go fish_. What if Sarani was expected to make a difficult decision that presented nothing but a lose-lose scenario for all involved? _Go fish_. What if Naho or one of Kazusa's unruly lieutenants came over? _Go fish._

The fact he was able to convince his son to come along this time meant a great deal to him. Fugaku always found some excuse not to go with him, always to the point where Sarani strongly suspected his son was merely too respectful and considerate to outright tell his father he wasn't interested in fishing.

This weekend, though, there were no other distractions. Kazusa was preoccupied with hunting down the fugitive Kitaro and Nanami failed to apprehend. Naho was having some kind of meeting with her older brothers to discuss "something special for the village," not that Sarani particularly liked the exclusivity Tenjin's line held in regard to the rest of the clan. Then again, his concerns fell on deaf ears to his wife. She _worshiped_ her friend.

"Wake up."

There was almost an excited playfulness to his typically reserved and professional tone. Why wouldn't there be? Today, he and his son were going to bond and do something he enjoyed. With Fugaku becoming a genin on Monday, this would be their last leisurely weekend for a long time. "It's best to do this first thing in the morning, right before dawn." Fugaku rolled over. "…Fugaku."

It gave him so much pleasure to see that disgruntled young face scowl up at him with sleepy eyes. Fugaku stretched and stood up on tottering tired legs. As he staggered past his father, grumbling something under his breath, Sarani made his way to the kitchen to pack a quick impromptu lunch for the two of them. This would be great.

…

This was so _boring_.

At least he could appreciate the beauty of his surroundings. The last time he'd sat by the water for this long, he'd gawked at his aunt in disbelief when a blue fireball left her lips and made all his hard effort feel worthless. Naho _-oba_ placed the fear of plateaued talent in his mind. _Doing_ something wasn't enough anymore. Doing it _better_ meant a thousand times more.

He had to be the best in something. _Anything_. Almost counted for nothing in life and second placeholders were merely the winning losers. If he'd learned anything from Naho, it was that. No one remembered second place. They could only be bothered to recall winners and the elite…and what kind of clan head couldn't live up to that?

"Are you still thinking about your mother?" Fugaku shook his head slowly. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure if I'm ready to graduate," he confessed. "Every time I think I've done a good job, _oba-san_ keeps showing me all the ways I still need to improve." Sarani sighed and rolled eyes. "What? It's true! She's at least ten times better than–"

"Believe me. I know." His eyes were up to the sky, lifting past the plane of his glasses. "This probably won't make you feel any better, but your mother feels inadequate next to your aunt sometimes. Most of us do. She and her brothers are…" Sarani slowly shook his head. "Don't get caught up in what you don't have or what you can't do. If you're constantly chasing things like that, you'll never be happy."

And already, Fugaku felt like a small child for even attempting to talk to his father about this. He _wanted_ to, though. He wanted someone to know how insecure and inadequate he felt in comparison. How hard would it be for someone as calm and collected as Sarani to tell him the five words he wanted most: _it will all be okay_?

"And you aren't being fair to yourself. You're only ten years old. You're about to be a _genin_. You're also comparing yourself to people who have had decades of experience more than you. You want to do the things you see us do? Practice. Try your best. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you're stuck. Learn as much as you can and take solace in what I'm about to tell you." What was solace? "It's inevitable. The people we think are the greatest don't stay that way. Someone _always_ comes along to take their place. And in time, it will happen to Naho, too."

Fugaku was so caught up in the moment that he failed to notice his line wriggled. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely!" Sarani grinned at his son, scooting a bit closer so he could wrap one arm around the boy's shoulders and pull him close. "Your teachers say you're a very talented student. You have so much potential." Actually, the correct phrasing Sarani overheard was that his son's intelligence was one of the greatest in generations. "Just give it some time, alright? You're in no rush–but your line is. Reel it in!"

Fugaku's attention returned to the pole, giving it a strong yank before it fell out of the boat. It wasn't anything big. He could tell by how easily he could pull the reel back. A tiny but badly mangled little fish struggled against the hook, flopping in desperation. "Great. It's one piece of sashimi at _most_ ," he grumbled, unhooking the fish. It needed to come with them, anyway. It couldn't live out there.

Sarani laughed. "You're missing the point. Sure, it's small, but you caught something before I did."

…

Three hours later, the sun was high and Fugaku failed to catch anything else aside from an angry turtle that bit him when he unhooked it. Sarani, on the other hand, continued to catch some truly impressive fish. That man couldn't contain his excitement, either. "I need to do this with you more."

"I didn't catch anything good."

"I never caught this _many_ before. I think the fish like you." Great. Now he was being silly. "I never catch anything when I bring your mother. We can clean these this evening and cook a few. If you want to invite your friends over, then–"

Fugaku's line caught something and he interrupted everything to grab the pole. Whatever it was, it had to be huge! His entire back strained as he tried pulling this thing out of the water. "Too heavy…" he groaned. "Help me, would you!? I think it's trying to go under the boat!"

Sarani took over the pole, but even he was having trouble. The way he grimaced and flinched made it clear to Fugaku that whatever they were about to see, it might get away. He couldn't allow that! He reached the edge of the pole and yanked it closer toward the boat. "No. No, son. Stay where you are! Boats aren't–"

But it was too late. The boat capsized. All the other fish bounced back into the pond. All Fugaku could think was that they prayed to some great and terrible fish god to free them from their plight. Not only had the fish's prayers been answered, but Fugaku caught the god. Soon, he and Sarani both would feel its wrath.

Sarani wrapped his arms firmly around his son's waist, pulling him to shallower water. "Whatever you do, don't let the pole go." He sounded almost _frantic_. "We'll get everything else out of the water later. Just… _don't let go!"_

His father was counting on him to do this right. There was no way he'd let go. Chakra control had been one of the last lessons taught at the Academy. Putting enough chakra into his hands to making the pole stick to him like a magnet, Fugaku backtracked and tried to pull this monster toward the land. Sarani gave his all on this, offering words of encouragement the whole time.

It felt like forever. Fugaku's arms threatened to pop out of socket, but he and Sarani succeeded. There, flopping before them, was a massive fish. "I…I had no idea it was _this_ one." Sarani's comment took his son aback. What did he mean? "Come here. I want to show you something."

Fugaku was dripping wet and his whole body ached, but he came closer to the fish. Up close, it was the color of slate but gleamed like metal. Long, intricate fins gave it a sort of natural beauty he'd seldom witnessed on an animal before. One eye was gone and it had _teeth_. It was a miracle the thing hadn't snapped the line. ' _I caught it!_ ' he realized. ' _It's almost my size, but I caught it!'_ Gingerly _,_ he moved closer, wondering what his father would do next. "What did you want to show me?"

Sarani's eyes seemed to gleam at this, but he pointed to the gills. "He's ancient. You can tell how old a fish is by how their gills look. He's older than you are. In fact…" This was really going to wow the kid. "He's closer to _my_ age."

…

They couldn't keep this a secret between them, nor could they kill, clean, and cook this magnificent creature before Kazusa came home. She'd be impressed, of course, and be wowed even more when she realized her husband hadn't caught it, but her _son_ did. That was the logic behind what they'd done.

It swam around in the bathtub, swimming little circles and demanding to be fed. "It's _huge_!" That was the general consensus. What started as only bragging to some of the other Uchiha boys and their fathers about his capture ended up escalating to the boys from his class. There had to be about a dozen men in that bathroom, all staring down at the majesty of nature.

Naka, one of Kazusa's most formidable lieutenants, squinted to get a closer look at the animal. "You…you could feed ten people on that, Sarani-sama…"

"I'm just worried I ruined fishing for Fugaku forever," Sarani admitted, laughing nervously. "He's never going to catch anything this big again in his life."

"You don't know that," Fugaku growled, but he wasn't being serious. "There's always gonna be a bigger fish out there, right? And _someone's_ gonna catch it." Might as well be him.

"Yeah," Nawaki roared, " _I_ will!" Neyuki's eyes darted toward Mikuro for a split second. The Shimura boy slowly nodded his head, as though to give his Inuzuka friend his blessing to stick the Senju boy's head in the tub with all the nasty fish water. Nawaki sputtered, gasping for air, and gagged when he managed to lift his head above water. "Ewww. It _pooped_ in there, you guys!"

"Oh, really?" Mikuro smirked. "Did you eat some?" Nawaki pushed him, which only made the boys laugh more.

Fugaku paid all of that no heed. His future didn't feel so frustrating at this moment. Finally, he set a record (even a pointless one) that others would strive to beat. So what if he couldn't release blue flames or didn't have his sharingan yet? He'd caught the biggest fish in the lake: a fish old enough to match his father in age. It was older. It should have known better.

And now, it was _his._

…

They'd made a whole morning of it. Mikoto wanted to visit her father and show off the new baby. When she saw her husband fidget a bit at the kitchen table, not terribly enthused by the idea, she'd laughed it off and told him he didn't have to go. If anything, he and Itachi could have some much needed father-son bonding time.

There were so many memories tied to that pond. He'd seen jutsu so incredible from the previous generation that he never succeeded in mastering, even by his _thirties_. On that dock, he'd unleashed his first fireball and received his first, second, and third kisses.

In fact, his very last memory of his father was tied to this pond.

Itachi woke up before he did, all excited and eager to get a start on the morning and catch something. "You don't know for sure you'll catch anything," Fugaku warned him. "So don't get too excited, alright?"

But he could see it in his boy's bright and excited eyes within the first thirty minutes of sitting on the dock: he loved it. In so many ways, he saw shades of Sarani in Itachi. They shared the same nurturing, patient spirit. "I don't care," the little boy muttered, sticking close to his father. "I just wanna fish."

They sat there for forever, but nothing bit on the lines. "Did I ever tell you I caught a fish _this_ big before?" Fugaku stretched out his arms. It got bigger and bigger to his memory the more time passed by. Itachi gave him a look that silently said **_sure_** _you did_ , then went back to watching his own lure. "My mother was away on a mission and my father wanted her to see the fish before we cleaned and gutted it. So he put it in the tub."

And oh, how he remembered the way Kazusa had screeched over that. She had it in her mind she deserved a long, relaxing bath after a whole weekend of tracking down that fugitive. As soon as she undressed, ready to run the water, she'd seen the massive animal in the bath and–

Itachi didn't believe him. He was humoring Fugaku with a little smile, but he didn't believe a word of this.


	8. False Placidity

Sometimes Sarani felt like he didn't understand his son. Fugaku could make the same melodramatic grimaces as his mother once he felt slighted. Sarani couldn't make such faces, so easy to read in emotion. He'd learned from a young age that it was better to swallow most of his feelings and never let them leave the surface. After all, few people truly wanted to know in earnest what he truly felt. They just wished to hear _I'm fine_ , then moved on to more important things.

The bored, glazed-over expression on his ten-year-old son's face left him wanting to sigh. ' _This isn't really your thing, is it? You agreed to come with me because you knew it would make me happy.'_ That sweet boy of his did so much to humor the adults in the clan. ' _You're a people-pleaser, just like your mother._ '

Or perhaps not. Kazusa was far more thin-skinned. "I need to do this with you more." It was a beautiful late spring day, quickly rolling into the heat of humid summer. Even the moonlit mornings prior to sunrise provided minimal solace from wild warmth.

"I didn't catch anything good." And it was just like his child to point out such a thing. Fugaku was painfully competitive, almost to the point where he sometimes alienated himself from his peers. Some of them, like the Shodaime's hyperactive grandson, kept coming back for more and wanted to turn it into a contest. Fugaku lived for contests and challenges, but that wasn't the point of coming out here.

…

 **Not everyone had a knack for this. He did, but even with his bad eyesight, Sarani could practically see the envy wafting off the smaller boy like steam. "Yasashī, you're going to scare all the fish away with an attitude like that."**

 **"So?" Yasashī pouted in annoyance, kicking one of his sandals into the water. It hit the surface with an unsatisfactory** ** _plop_** **. What did he care about such things? He was barely four years old. The only reason he'd agreed to come out here was because it gave him an excuse to hang out with his twelve-year-old brother.**

 **"If we catch nothing, then we** ** _eat_** **nothing."**

 **The village was in its formative years and everyone had to do their part, no matter how small. If the clan was going to make this settlement work, they'd have to participate in more than mere diplomacy with the Senju, the Shimura, the Utatane, and all the others.**

 **It made sense to Sarani, but their clan head wasn't completely sold to the idea. He kept insisting some great horror would befall them and they'd conceded to the Senju Clan's demands prematurely. But to Sarani's parents, this was a dream come true.**

 **In a village, Sarani and Yasashī wouldn't have to hide themselves to other kids for fear of being abducted, tortured, or worse. They could make friends in other clans, learn together, build bonds to last** ** _generations_** **, and live a more peaceful existence than their ancestors did.**

 **Sarani was even a genin now, studying under a Hyūga mentor with an Akimichi and an Aburame for teammates, but was still old enough to remember when this village was founded. His little brother would never know a time before Konohagakure. This piece of land would be given to the Uchiha in a sign of fraternity and friendship. They'd grow here and flourish.**

 **"Nuh-uh," Yasashī huffed, wrinkling his button nose. "We'll still eat."**

 **"Don't be so sure of that.** ** _Otou-san_** **had his mouth set on fish. Without it, we're eating nothing but mushrooms and old veggies. All that nasty stuff you don't–"**

 **He didn't have to say anything else to convince the little boy to put more bait on the hook. Yasashī surrendered the box of worms and eagerly held it up, wanting his** ** _nii-san_** **to put it together for him. "Don't worry. I've got it. I don't want you accidentally getting a hook stuck in your hand."**

...

Sometimes, he got the distinct impression that his son needed more encouragement to do something once he became bored. Fishing clearly fell into that category. "I think you have a knack for this."

Fugaku raised both eyebrows at that, not fully convinced. There were certain things his father enjoyed doing that he couldn't find much joy in. This would probably be one of those things. He shrugged, but he didn't seem to be intentionally apathetic.

' _You'd probably enjoy this a whole lot more with your friends, wouldn't you?'_ At least his boy hung around a (mostly) good crowd. The classmates he played with were all lovely children, especially the Utatane boy. Tohru was so polite, so cordial and well-mannered, and Sarani could see so much sincerity and genuine affection in that child's eyes. He adored Fugaku and saw him as a true friend. A friendship like that…

He didn't see himself as a pessimist, but one could only be around Kazusa for so long before some of her paranoia and worry rubbed off. ' _Son, you're going to_ _ **need**_ _a friend like that.'_ Especially if Kazusa's angered words became reality.

...

 **Their parents were war-weary people who never wanted to see carnage again. This village would be their salvation, their godsend, an answer to their prayers and so much more. So long as they could turn their backs to the old ways and move forward, the world would become more accepting.**

 **Perhaps the Academy would be ready in time for Yasashī to enroll. Naturally, Sarani's parents wanted to volunteer to teach the village children as a whole. His father in particular wanted a great leap forward and would do all in his power to see it in his lifetime.**

 **"Ah! You're both back!" Yasashī rushed over on his tiny legs, almost stumbling to get to his father before he threw himself completely into the old man's arms. "How many fish did you catch?"**

 **'** ** _None_** **,' Sarani thought, glancing at the empty canvas bag. He could smell his mother burning cooking oil in their kitchen. It still felt new to him even seven years later. '** ** _We didn't catch anything_** **.'**

 **Yasashī had been more interested in** ** _feeding_** **the fish than catching them, though Sarani supposed that served a decent enough purpose, too. If the fish knew the humans fed them, they'd come for more and be easier to catch in the future. His stomach growled, betraying their shared failure far more than an empty bag ever could. "…sorry, we–"**

 **"No luck?" Great. Now both of them were staring him down with suspicious glances. "Yasashī, your brother always catches something when you aren't there."**

 **"But–"**

 **"Sarani, please try again. We're struggling to put some meat in our diets." And this was the quickest, cheapest way to do it until things settled down.**

 **All he could do was lower his head in personal disappointment. He wasn't a talented and rising star like any of Tenjin's children or an ambitious, eager-to-please ball of red-hot passion like the heir apparent. He paled in comparison to virtually every other Uchiha his age. Not a one of them compared to** ** _Kagami_** **, though. As much as everyone wanted to applaud and praise Naho, that was** ** _nothing_** **next to Kagami.**

 **He felt inadequate, like a good-for-nothing deadbeat who couldn't even catch enough fish to feed his parents and little brother. "I'm sorry to disappoint. I never…"**

...

"I never caught this _many_ before." It was a truthful statement if ever he'd made one–and he was a painfully honest man. "I think the fish like you."

It was true, though the fish in this pond were ridiculously tame compared to those in the other village ponds. They learned early on that the people in this clan gave them stale bread and other delicious things. Some of them were so at ease around the Uchiha that a child could stick his legs in the water and feel minnows nip at his toes in excitement.

That didn't particularly seem like anything _Fugaku_ would want to do, though. He'd inherited his mother's competitive streak and was determined to turn this into a contest. If he failed to catch more fish than Sarani by the end of the day, even though the task clearly bored him to tears, he'd be disappointed beyond belief.

"I never catch anything when I bring your mother."

...

 **"Is it true? You only catch things when I'm not there?" Yasashī glanced up at his brother with big wet eyes.**

 **'** ** _Maybe it dawned on him that there really is no other meat in the house. He hates vegetables.'_**

 **Their mother tried to cook anything a human could potentially eat, even if it wasn't food. She mentioned a time in her life when she'd even chewed and swallowed** ** _clay_** **just to get the iron. He'd also caught her sucking on smooth stones and cotton balls before when she thought people weren't watching.**

 **"You were only trying to help," Sarani consoled. Yasashī furiously nodded his head and couldn't keep his pouty bottom lip from quivering. "Don't worry about it. First thing in the morning, I'll try again. You already ate." Everyone else did.**

 **Besides, he knew what was edible in the woods. If he got an early enough start in the morning, he could grab some dandelion leaves, some berries, and a few edible roots before he even made it to the pond. "I'll bring in a big fish tomorrow, but I'm sorry. I'm not taking you with me."**

 **"But I'll be** ** _good_** **next time."**

 **"Yasashī…" It was hard to make it sound like it** ** _wasn't_** **a personal affront, especially to a rambunctious little boy who only wanted to help. "I'm not going to make you come along. You said it was boring."**

 **"But…but…"**

 **But the discussion was over. Before Yasashī could even find the words to argue, Sarani felt he'd heard enough. He hoisted up the little boy and carried him off to their shared bedroom, cringing a bit when he realized he felt his brother's ribs. When Sarani moved his brother to help him get dressed for bed, he saw the boy's spine, too.**

...

He said something else, trying to engage his child in the situation around them, but it felt like white noise before it even left his lips. Sometimes, he didn't pay much attention to what came out of his mouth. It was more how he felt and how he made others feel. If they were happy, then he could share in that. If he could keep that clear head of his, then–

Fugaku had been paying attention to him, too, when he should have kept a better watch on his fishing pole. Something came out of the water in a brief moment and Sarani turned pale. "Son, the _rod_!" Fugaku reacted quickly and managed to grab the rod before he lost the whole thing. Still, he nearly teetered over the edge and…no. No, oh dear _god_ , no.

Like a frozen lakefront, Uchiha Sarani still had his depths right below the surface. He could be as calm and placid as he wished, but this kind of danger shattered the ice in an instant. That emotional ice was so _thin_ and his son was so… _so_ …

"Too heavy!" the boy yelled, straining and pulling with all his might. " _Help_ me, would you?! I think it's trying to go under the boat!"

Sarani took over the pole, but even he was having trouble. Due to severe malnutrition in his formative years, he never was fated to be a large or physically strong man. He had a wiry build, lean and almost gaunt. Almost all his body strength came from his arms, but even those looked small and twig-like compared to some of the more intimidating Uchiha men.

This fish put up a fight the likes of which he'd tried his best to block from his memory. Fugaku yanked the pole as close to the boat as he could manage with those young, weak arms of his. "No. No, son. Stay where you are! Boats aren't–"

The boat capsized, taking the both of them into that treacherous and deceptively calm lake. And that's when it dawned on him just what could do something like this. He _remembered_.

...

 **"You're still here?" His father sounded so confused. "I don't understand. The fishing equipment's not in the house. I assumed you'd already be off by now, you know…catching something for all of us to eat…"**

 **"It wouldn't hurt** ** _you_** **to give it a try sometime, dear," his mother huffed, stirring something into her tea. She offered a cup to Sarani, but he didn't accept. It smelled foul. Then again, she tried to convince him once that chicory root tasted just like coffee. It** ** _didn't_** **.**

 **"I don't have the patience for it. I'd sooner set traps in the woods and go after the bigger game."**

 **"Heh! And a fat lot of good** ** _that's_** **done you. All you ever succeeded in doing was alienating us even further from the Nara Clan." He'd heard about this before. A few years ago, his father assumed the deer were fair game and poached one on the outskirts of the Nara land. They were still doing all they could to apologize to those people. "Sarani, do you think your brother tried to fish for us?"**

 **'** ** _If he did, he isn't going to have any luck with it._** ** _Yasashī's too loud._** **'**

 **Sarani reached for his jacket and made his way toward the pond. "I'll check." The little idiot probably fell asleep on the new dock a couple of hours ago. He could picture him now. Yasashī would roll over as if nothing ever happened, smile at him impishly, and then reach out his arms for his big brother to carry him home. '** ** _Lazy little thing…so irresponsible…_** **'**

 **Maybe he'd scold Yasashī a little and make him feel bad for wandering off unsupervised. Then he'd surprise him with a handful of berries he'd picked along the way. Blackberries grew wild this time of year!**

 **Yasashī wasn't on the dock, but the bait was knocked over. All the worms and bugs they'd caught in preparation a few days ago wriggled about in the morning sun, trying their best to find a means of escape before their entire bodies baked them to a literal heat death. "Yasashī…"**

 **There wasn't a response. Had somebody abducted him!? "Yasashī!" Again, no response. All he heard was a sound reminiscent of a sandal breaking the placidity of the lakefront…or the splash of a large fish.**

 **That's when he saw him floating in the water, face down. Like a child with a kite, something in the murky abyss made Yasashī's tiny body move in circles. Although Yasashī's position moved, the boy himself did not. In fact, he'd never move again.**

 **"YASASHĪ!" Everything else after that was unintelligible. Words were pointless. All the rest of the nearby villagers heard as they reacted to Sarani's shrieks were what words never could fully articulate anyway:** ** _anguish_** **.**

 **It didn't matter that he never learned how to swim; there was no way he'd leave his baby brother alone for another second.**

 **"How could he let this happen? Wasn't he supposed to be** ** _watching_** **him?"**

 **The other Konoha villagers whispered among themselves, all staring on in horror at this awful sight. Yet nobody moved to help because there was no telling how long that child had floated in the water.**

 **Sarani lost his glasses somewhere in the murky depths, but at least he could grab Yasashī's little hands, release the pole, and push him back toward the shore. But there were complications with that. The fish had teeth. He could feel it snapping at his leg. It became a case of backing away from the creature rather than taking the quickest route to the shore.**

 **For a brief moment, Sarani himself was submerged and came face to face with the thing that killed his brother.**

...

Not again. He couldn't do this again! The king of watery rot wouldn't claim anyone _else_ in his family. This was his one and only living child: his _lucky and cherished son_. He worried his whole life that there would never be anyone else he'd ever be able to love and care for as much as he'd done for Yasashī, but the love for a little brother was _nothing_ compared to being a father.

There was nobody in the world who could replace his beloved child, and there was no sacrifice in silence Sarani _wouldn't_ hesitate to make in order to keep him safe. His happiness would be great, too, but if he could at least keep him _safe_ and watch him grow into somebody _strong–_

In a fit of terror most unlike him, Sarani squeezed both arms tightly and desperately around Fugaku. "Can't _breathe,_ " the ten-year-old huffed, but he stubbornly refused to let go of the pole.

"Don't let go." He remembered those hands and how _quickly_ they lost their warmth. "Whatever you do, _don't_ _let go_." When he'd done so before, the creature dragged his poor brother down into the depths. By the time he made it to the surface, it was too late. "We'll get everything else later. Just…just don't…"

They worked together, pulling the pole with all their might toward the shore. Fugaku refused to relinquish control to the hell-fish and Sarani did all in his power to bring them back to solid ground. ' _You're so warm_. _Still alive._ ' His bare foot stepped on something in the water. His toes registered it as a tiny shoe.

Finally, both father and son toppled over onto the sand-and-stone banks and brought this beast into the light. Although Fugaku was mesmerized by it right away, Sarani froze. It was every bit as dreadful to behold now as it'd been back then…

"I…I had no idea it was _this_ one…" Sarani's comment took his son aback. What did he mean? "Come here. I want to show you something…"


	9. Calm Before the Storm

Fugaku hadn't believed his father when he swore he wouldn't miss his graduation ceremony even if the whole world went to war, but Sarani kept his promise. Over the weekend, the declaration was made official: the armistice agreed upon in the First Great Shinobi War had failed. The Second Great Shinobi War was on.

Still, he saw his father in the crowd, head held high in pride. Fugaku turned his head a few times to look at Sarani. Every time, Sarani held up one hand to do a small wave of acknowledgment. The man smiled, but his eyes were filled with worry and dread. Pride, he still felt. Joy, no longer.

' _I'll be fine_ ,' Fugaku wanted to tell him. His teachers had praised all his hard work and natural talent for several months. They initially insisted keeping him in the Ninja Academy a little longer, but not for any academic reason. The only way they could justify it was "emotional maturity" and "building bonds."

However, the thing that mattered most (the curriculum) stopped challenging him a long time ago. If anything, graduation was overdue, but the village wouldn't promote an academy student to a genin rank without making absolutely sure the kid could handle it. At least, Fugaku wanted to believe that. This was why his teachers told him he'd be the only child from his class to graduate this term.

Did that change overnight? Was that why there were _seven_ headbands laid out instead of only his? As he turned around to the sound of other voices, he recognized a few faces from class. ' _Oh no. This can't be right.'_ And yet he couldn't help himself. He had to ask. "Mikuro? Neyuki? Shinohara? Why are you here?"

"The same reason as you," Shinohara Mitsumi announced. "Effective tomorrow, we're _genin,_ too." She said it so proudly, too, holding her head high.

' _You aren't ready for that!'_ If Fugaku said it, he'd sound like an arrogant ass. But they had to know, right? They'd all heard the same thing he did in class: that it wasn't even a _close_ tie between the first and second ranking students.

But true to form, the second-ranking kid in class was giving him an ugly look. Mikuro wrinkled up his face as though he smelled something bad and folded his arms. "What's with that look? Hn? Did you _want_ to show off and be the only one to walk across the stage?" Fugaku opened his mouth to say something to his defense, but was cut off. "Tch. You probably did. You can't resist the urge to rub it in our faces that you're–"

"It doesn't matter!" Mitsumi held both hands high above her head, throwing them in abandon. "It doesn't matter at _all!_ The good news is that there's seven of us graduating. We can share our experiences, learn a specialized skill early because it's war time, and help each other grow into stronger people."

She sounded a bit scared, but she wasn't about to let Mikuro and Fugaku butt heads again. Every time the boys played war with each other, Mikuro went out of his way to suggest Fugaku play the bad guy. And if Fugaku called the Shimura boy on his shit, Mikuro tried to justify it by saying Fugaku was _a natural_ at it, not to mention the biggest challenge for the other players. Play fights tended to escalate into real fights after that.

It wasn't right, the way Mikuro goaded him on. Mitsumi saw what it was doing to her friend's self-esteem and she already had concerns. Fugaku was too proud of a person to show the boys even half of what he showed her when they were alone. She heard his hurt and frustration, but she didn't know how she'd be able to do anything to fix it. "This is a special day."

"Shinohara?" Fugaku nudged the girl. "You said there's seven of us graduating? Who are the other three?"

Inwardly, Fugaku didn't know how to feel. A part of him secretly wanted Tohru to pass, just so they could have some semblance of a chance to end up on the same team. The other half of him couldn't shake the worried look in his father's eyes. Did he _really_ want to rush it for his best friend and risk him getting hurt?

When he actually saw Tohru in the crowd, Fugaku froze. "You, too?!" he asked, cringing until Tohru laughed and shook his head. "Wait, what? Then why are you here?"

"Do you even have to _ask_?" Tohru's mother wasn't with him. She was busy with village council work. He moved closer to Fugaku's father and beamed. "My best friend becomes a genin today, not to mention a few of my other good friends." Fugaku couldn't help but notice the dark look Mikuro shot him. "Why would I miss that?"

…

As much as he'd both anticipated and dreaded this moment, Fugaku quickly realized how uneventful and routine these ceremonies were. They were informal and it would have been that way even if he'd graduated alone. These teachers who wrote dazzling recommendations for him just weeks ago now didn't want to make eye contact with any of the new genin. All they did was present the _hitai-ate_ and urge the children to take the headbands as quickly as possible.

"Atta girl, Mitsumi!" A loud, low voice like a human thundercloud caught the Uchiha boy's attention. He'd seen Mitsumi's father in passing once or twice, secretly in awe of how he seemed to dwarf every other man Fugaku knew. _None_ of the Uchiha men were built like that. "You've made your daddy proud today!"

Mitsumi laughed nervously, trying to hide the pink shades of embarrassment spread across her freckled face. "You're lucky your dad isn't loud like mine," she murmured to Fugaku. "At least I never have to worry about losing him in a crowd, right?"

She'd come by every other week after that first visit. The Shinoharas even adopted one of Kazusa's cats. If Mitsumi visited, she'd always bring pictures for Kazusa, updating her on what was going on with Ogetsu the calico. At first, Kazusa seemed bitter over the updates until she saw for herself just how happy the animal looked with that little girl. The last couple of visits, she'd behaved as though Mitsumi were _her_ guest and wanted to hear with eager ears what her former feline friend was up to.

Mitsumi preferred Sarani, though. He was a quiet, well-read man who preferred to keep things peaceful and calm. She could relate, even if she had a rambunctious blacksmith for a father.

"Don't be so hard on your father, Shinohara. He seems like a nice man." In fact, Fugaku quite liked the noisiness. That loud, vocal pride was something his mother threw his way on occasion, _but she wasn't here_. When he glanced down at his team assignment card, he smiled. "Did you read this yet?"

"No. Why?"

…

"And tomorrow, I'm doing my first assignment! Shinohara and I get to share a team with an older genin until someone else passes. And…and…" He'd babbled excitedly to the older boy the whole way back to the Uchiha compound. Sanjo seemed distracted, so Fugaku tried doing all he could to turn attention back his way.

"Sanjo, your fly's down." Sanjo paused, glanced down, and swore when he realized Fugaku was right. Good. _That_ got him. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Hm? Aw, sorry. I've kinda got some other shit on my mind." Honestly, all Sanjo wanted to do was sneak around a corner and light one of his "contraband" cigarettes. His parents totally knew about it, but Kitaro and Nanami feigned ignorance in a not-so-convincing way. If tobacco made their son happy, they'd place it in the easiest cabinet to break into and let him think he was being rebellious.

This wasn't how he wanted it to go. Fugaku wanted a pat on the back for this: some praise for being a _real ninja_. His father had glowed with pride, but Sarani almost always did that. His mother hadn't even been there. True, Sanjo only caught the last part of the ceremony, but didn't he understand how much Fugaku looked up to him? "Hello. I made _genin_ rank right after my _tenth birthday_. This doesn't merit a little celebration? You're–"

"Congratulations, Fugaku," the teenager huffed, placing the cigarette in his mouth backwards. He performed the hand signs and the glow of a flame came out the back, lighting the white stick. His mouth opened, he flipped the cigarette around, and took a long toke from it. "You're cannon fodder."

' _You're bitter that you were thirteen before they considered you,'_ Fugaku suspected. It all sounded like sour grapes to him, why Sanjo was so sore. "I'm perfectly capable," he growled. "Come on. We talked about this. I won't feel so sure about it if I don't have your vote of confidence. You're like a big brother to me. What's…what's wrong?"

"It's my dumbass parents, man. You can't keep thinking of me like that because I'm about to be a big brother for _real_." And he didn't sound thrilled in the slightest over it. "They're picking names out for it and everything. Aside from that…? Fuck. I was all proud when you told me this at first, but war changes everything."

"They don't give newbies the dangerous missions. They–"

"They do in _war time_ , Fug-face." Sanjo gave the boy's wrist a yank, dragging him into the alley. "Remember what I told you before: that no one's got your back more so than your own blood? That shit's gonna be tested. I want you to be smart about what you do on your missions. Be _careful_. Those meetings the adults have…I can't give you details until they invite you in, but you're _really_ gonna have to keep a close eye on the clan and see who steps up to help you…and who _doesn't."_

"You're making it sound like there's someone I shouldn't trust." Fugaku frowned. "Stop being cryptic and tell me up front. How bad is this?"

"Pretty goddamn bad. This ain't a normal war, kid. This is a clusterfuck and you're gonna see some of your little pals die before it's over. And if they do survive, they ain't coming out of this the same." He could already see the dread on the boy's face. "You watch out for them, but you watch out for yourself _first_. Got it?"

…

On the one hand, he couldn't wait to go on his first mission with Mitsumi. She was the smartest girl from the class and he already knew he could work alongside her without any problems. They'd practiced in pairs before. The two of them even teamed up to play war with the boys sometimes. Maybe she'd never be the sort of kunoichi people would sing legendary songs about, but she'd do fine. And if she didn't, he'd protect her.

 _Nothing_ would happen to Shinohara Mitsumi, not on Uchiha Fugaku's watch.

Plus, they'd have a _senpai_ on their team, at least until more kids from their former class graduated and became genin. Then, maybe, if they worked hard enough, they could put in a good word and get Tohru on the team. He and Mitsumi were already in agreement that they'd want him as their #3. They both adored him and wanted to spend as much time with him as humanly possible. Tohru was a magnet for everything positive and bright.

On the other hand, the excitement of pairing up with Mitsumi was nothing compared to the building anxiety over Sanjo's words.

' _Konoha declared war. This won't be a happy-go-lucky romp around the village_.' As much as he wanted to think about running errands for retired shinobi and doing basic grunt work until he worked his way up to the better missions, all the while making a multitude of warm memories with a girl he liked, that wasn't how this would play out.

They might end up delivering news of the deceased to worried families so the chūnin and jōnin wouldn't have to go home and postpone the battle. They could end up smuggling supplies to battlefields. Mitsumi showed an aptitude for cryptography, so maybe they'd get a bit more of that. _'One can hope…one can seriously hope…'_

But that wasn't all Sanjo warned about, was it?

 ** _'You're really gonna have to keep a close eye on the clan and see who steps up to help you…and who doesn't._** '

The words echoed in his mind and he felt as though stones were in his gut. What did he mean by that? What if–

"I'm _home_!"

Fugaku almost levitated out of his bed, eager to run downstairs and tell his mother all about his day. He put his shirt back on, made sure his pajama bottoms weren't going to fall off, and darted for the stairs. Halfway down the staircase, he remembered just how angry he was with her for blowing off something so important. Halting in place, he prayed Kazusa didn't see him…but she did.

There she stood, and staring up at him from the bottom of the stairs with a smug, cocky grin. "How's my _genin_ doing?" she asked, holding out both arms for a hug.

"No," he huffed, trying to get past her. He wouldn't hug her back. "I'm still mad at you." But secretly, when she tackled him and wrapped her strong arms around him anyway, nuzzling her face in his hair, he still enjoyed it. "Mmmmmmf."

"Oh hush. I'm not smothering you." Finally, she let go and couldn't contain the excitement in her eyes. "You know I'm sorry, right?"

As much as he wanted to pull a page out of Sanjo's book and tell her _yes, you truly are_ , he couldn't bring himself to do it. Deep down, all he wanted was for her to come home and make a bit of a fuss over him. Maybe she was late, but she'd been protecting the village and the clan. The most important thing was that she _did_ come home.

"Apology accepted," he decided to tell her. "You…you aren't gonna believe who I'm on a team with…"


	10. Saccharine

When it came to his mother, Fugaku could never stay angry with her for long. Kazusa always knew exactly what to say or do to be forgiven.

This morning, the ten-year-old boy woke up to the smell of steamed fish and _okayu_. Most of the time, Kazusa merely left granola bars and fruit flats on the table as a "fend for yourself" breakfast because both she and Sarani worked long hours. They'd work even longer hours now that their son was a shinobi, too. She really only bothered to cook a nice breakfast if it was a significant day.

"Is that for me?" Fugaku inquired, peeking his head out from the stairway.

Kazusa laughed a little, picked a piece of fish off the plate, and dropped it on the floor for her son's fat tabby. The cat smacked its lips a few times before squatting down to make audible chewing noises.

"You're gonna be one hell of a detective when you're older," she teased. "Of _course_ this is for you! It's your first day as a Konoha shinobi and I'm one proud mother." He wasn't going to get any further apology for missing the graduation ceremony and he knew it, but that was alright. When Kazusa actually bothered to cook, her meals were quite good. "I want you to eat it all, too. You'll need all the protein and carbs you can handle."

"Do you know what I'm doing?" If so, she found out before he did.

"You and Mitsumi-chan are neutralizing an old minefield today. They want to convert that land into a second hospital. Gods know we'll need one. So be careful, okay? Do what the older kid says. He's a member of the Hyūga clan, so let him put his _byakugan_ to good use. Hopefully, he'll keep you two from blowing each other up."

"Where's the fun in knowing where the mines are?" Fugaku teased. "That kills all the suspense." He wasn't being serious and Kazusa could tell. Sarcasm ran rampant in this home. Poor Sarani wasn't so great at picking up on it, but this was a strong case of _like mother like son_.

"You better come home with all your limbs. I'll disinherit you if you don't." Yes. Like mother, like son.

" _Otou-san_ said some things are going to change now that I'm a genin. Is that right?" Fugaku watched as Kazusa nodded her head. "How so?"

"Your father and I need to put in some extra hours at the police station until things calm down a bit. We're doing drills with the adults to make sure the clan's ready for war." Some families were already preparing. "You may be on your own for dinners more regularly and won't see as much of us. There's also a good chance we'll be called off to fight someplace far away. It might even happen to you. I…well, I remember the time you panicked and thought–"

"That won't happen again," he lied, hoping she'd believe him. "I understand. And if I have to cook dinner every once in a while because you're doing your part to keep this village safe, that's alright. I won't get any life-threatening missions when I'm this new, right?"

Kazusa squeezed his hand. "How did we get blessed with such an understanding child?"

Fugaku was excited over his first mission, eager to team up with Mitsumi, and take the next step toward becoming someone this clan could be proud of.

"So, uh…here's the deal." What? Kazusa had a guilty smile on her face as she leaned in. "I only had time to make _breakfast_. So you're…uh…you're on your own for lunch."

…

' _That's just like her: put on a grand show of doing something nice, only to forget something else!'_

Fugaku was irked, but at least Kazusa gave him enough money to merit going out for sushi or something else before heading home. Maybe he could finish this landmine mission in time to catch up with Tohru and Nawaki before they left Academy for the day. They'd probably both be willing to listen with open, eager ears when they were done. If Mitsumi wanted to come along afterward–

"Fugaku _-nii…_ " Fugaku paused, turning around to see one of the younger clan children staring up at him with big black eyes. In her pink sundress and flower barrettes, she looked like a little doll. Even her sandals had flowers on them. When he made eye contact with the girl, she just giggled and held something up. "Good luck today!"

' _Did your parents put you up to this?'_ He chose to accept the five-year-old's gift, which appeared to be a nicely packed bento. "You're a lifesaver, Mi-chan." Mikoto could be a little brat sometimes, but what kid _wasn't_ at that age? Fugaku knew full well he'd been a petulant little shit at points. There were even times where he'd acted up so badly in a public ceremony that his parents hoisted him away before it even finished.

Mikoto used to pitch fits when the children waited together during clan meeting nights. A few years ago, she'd thrown one hell of a tantrum when Fugaku told her she wasn't old enough to play mahjong with the older kids. They were fewer in number now that she was old enough to talk (and, as she proudly liked to remind people every chance she got, _read_ ).

It hadn't gone unnoticed that the little girl enjoyed following him around. In some ways, Fugaku inwardly felt like he was turning into Mikoto's own personal 'Sanjo,' but he'd be a better role model. She could be such a cute little sister figure some days–like this one. But he was already starting to wonder what was in the box. "Want me to stop by and give this back to you when I'm done with my mission?"

"Mission?" All Fugaku had to do was point at his headband and Mikoto's jaw dropped. Her mouth made an excited O before she smiled with her mouth wide open and clapped her hands. "Oh! Oooooh!" She dropped her hands and gave him an apologetic look. "I forgot Fugaku _-nii_ is a real ninja now!"

"Why? Is this play food?"

"No!" She got on her tip toes, tottered over to him, and gave him a hug. "Bye bye!"

…

It took all of ten minutes for Mitsumi and Fugaku to decide their teammate was an asshole and no one they wanted to get to know on a long term basis. "Just another term," Mitsumi kept reminding Fugaku, patting his back. "Then there's gonna be more of us."

"Yeah. _More_ cannon fodder," Fugaku grumbled, arms completely covered in dirt. "Could you imagine someone like _his royal highness_ doing this? Nawaki would be so excited about being a ninja that he'd dance around like an _idiot_ and…" With his mouth, he tried to imitate the noise of a bomb going off and spread his arms outward. "By the way, my mother said she'd disinherit me if I blow myself up."

Mitsumi laughed so hard that she nearly fell off the tree root she'd used for a seat. She beckoned her teammate to come sit next to her. Fugaku was more than happy to oblige. "That's _Kazusa-taichou_ for you. I love your mom." It was true, too. Fugaku could hear the excitement in his mother's voice when she saw he'd brought Mitsumi home to train with him. Now there'd be even more excuses to do so.

There were supposed to be a grand total of fifty mines in the field. So far, the three young minesweepers only located forty. The sun was at its peak, indicating they'd been out here for a solid four to five hours. They roasted, sweated, and grimaced underneath it.

Their teammate, at least, took mercy on them to some degree and decided it would be best to hydrate the children. He stepped off to buy something from a nearby vending machine, but Fugaku was already too much of a cynic to mistake the action as a kindness. "I propose we go on strike until he comes back."

That merited a long groan from his auburn teammate. She tugged at her hair and her freckled face contorted into a sweaty grimace. "How can you say that? It's hot out here and we're surrounded by bugs. I'm ready to go home." Mitsumi pulled a small fan out and blew it in a way where she'd benefit the both of them. "Sheesh. _Nothing_ sounds better than a nice long bath once this mission's over. Why would you possibly want to–"

"Because we're wasting our effort without him, not to mention jeopardizing our lives. His byakugan is our best means of safely finding the mines."

"That's a valid point. I guess we're safer that way. Want to go ahead and eat lunch, then?"

"Now _that_ sounds like a good plan!" Fugaku pulled out Mikoto's bento and heard Mitsumi's giggle fit kick into full gear again. "What?"

"Do I _want_ to know why you have a cutesy-cute pink bento with a sparkly unicorn on it?"

"Oh, shut up, Shinohara. A little girl from my clan made lunch for me."

"D'aww. That's so _sweet!"_ She opened her own bento (a tasteful mint green box with a bamboo pattern etched into it) and smiled. It was the leftover yakisoba from last night's dining out with her father, but he'd also packed a couple of her favorite red bean buns as a treat and a few mango slices. She handed a piece of mango over to Fugaku, which he thanked her for. "Let's see what your little _waifu_ packed, shall we?"

"What's gotten into you today? Mi-chan's five years old. She's _not_ my–" Oh god.

 _It was nothing but candy._

…

"Good luck on your first mission, Itachi. Make us proud." Mikoto knelt down to give her son a kiss on the forehead. Today was Itachi's first day as a genin and she'd already taken nearly ten pictures. "Your father wants to walk with you."

Fugaku watched as his son smiled up at him. They had a special bond, he and his firstborn. Sure, he had a sneaking suspicion that Sasuke outranked him in Itachi's heart, but he'd always be the boy's father. "You're on your way to becoming a strong shinobi, just like us."

"…yeah…" It was a meek response. Itachi stared down at his lunch bento and took a few small steps toward the door. Fugaku couldn't help himself. Out of old habit, he wanted to check the lunch. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making sure your mother packed you something healthy," he admitted, prying the bento open. Mikoto was already giving him a far-from-pleased look. **_You're lucky I'm holding our other son_** , that scowl silently told him. **_Otherwise I'd chew your ass out for this_**. Not that she talked that way in front of the children. _Ever_. "Did I ever tell you what she made for me on my first day as a–"

"Fugaku, I was _five_ ," Mikoto hissed. "I promise I made our son a real lunch." Fugaku opened it up anyway, wanting to verify the statement. She was right; it was a real lunch.

But he still felt Itachi would do just fine with only _one_ packet of cookies, not two.


	11. Sapling

Being a genin wasn't so bad. He could sleep in a little later than he did as an Academy student, yet still managed to briefly see his parents downstairs before they parted ways to do their separate jobs. It didn't even matter that most of his missions were menial tasks; he felt like he was contributing instead of only taking up space.

Now his family took turns fixing breakfast, meaning Fugaku woke up an hour early every three days to be a good son and give Sarani and Kazusa a chance to take it easy in the morning and wake up to a prepared (albeit quick) meal. The Konohagakure Military Police Force was responsible for very important work and Fugaku acknowledged that.

It was wartime. The clan needed to be ready to fight at a moment's notice. If ever they'd have a chance of impressing the village and reminding everyone else just who their strongest shinobi clan happened to be, _this_ would be it.

Becoming a genin also meant he was officially mature enough to attend clan meetings. As heir apparent, he enjoyed taking one of the front seats at the shrine and listen to his mother's loud, sonorous voice resonate through the walls. It was a long walk to the shrine, but there was a sense of community in those meetings. Their clan lived all over the village, but there were nothing but Uchiha faces in that room on meeting nights.

Kazusa promised Fugaku that he could keep attending the meetings and even contribute, provided he didn't do what Sanjo did and blab to the children. She'd made him swear not to do so.

Today was his father's morning to fix breakfast, which meant Fugaku couldn't sleep in and neither could Kazusa. Sarani turned the radio on when he cooked, oftentimes trying to pick up a signal from the old Fire Country capital city, or maybe the Land of Smoke. If he caught a music station from the old capital, that was preferable. A Land of Smoke station meant Fugaku would awaken to radio program melodrama. Today, he heard the sounds of _enka_ music and his father trying to sing along.

Fugaku felt the heavy thumping of feet from his parents' room, indicating Kazusa was awake. They met in the hallway and stared each other down with half-asleep glares. Fugaku's eyes narrowed, but Kazusa didn't budge. Since she sleep-grunted at him to assert dominance, he decided it would be alright to let her use the bathroom first…even though he knew it would take forever.

Kazusa's unruly hair had a mind of its own. And yet, _somehow_ , she managed to tame that crazy mane into a braid every day. "Can I at least use the toilet while you do your hair?" Kazusa turned on a hairdryer. _Great_. At least there was a bathroom downstairs.

Fugaku dressed himself and walked toward of the music, hearing his father hum along and mutter the few lyrics he knew. He didn't understand why food was such a big deal for his father, but Sarani became anxious whenever he found out his child missed a meal. "Morning."

"Good morning to you, too." Wait. Did he say it was a good one or did Sarani simply mishear him? "Your mother and I are performing a safety drill with the Hokage and his council today." That sounded a thousand times more interesting than whatever Fugaku would be doing with Mitsumi. At least the company would be nice. "Do you know what you and Mitsumi-chan are doing?" Sarani turned around, presenting his son with breakfast.

It was rice congee again, but at least he'd been proactive enough to pack his son a lunch. They'd both heard about Mikoto's bento. "No. Do you?" Oh no. When his father smiled like that, that meant–

…

"If that's what real ninjas do, then I'll stay in Academy forever," Tohru commented, poking at the barbecue. The smell of seasoned meats, hot peppers, onions, leeks, and shrimp wafted through the air. Every last whiff was enough to make the boy salivate all over again. "You spent the whole day on a paid mission to take your mother's cats to the vet?"

"No. Just one of them," Fugaku corrected. "But it was a real mission. She paid for it." And he knew why. Kumoshiro was typically a big, friendly white puffball who didn't even mind when the younger clan kids grabbed at him or carried him like a baby. However, he turned into a demon cat as soon as it dawned on him that he'd be paying the vet a visit.

Bandages covered poor Mitsumi's arms and Fugaku's ripped shirt barely constituted as a garment anymore. The animal yowled as though he were being tortured in the back room. Once it was all over and the cat was quickly shoved back into his carrier, the vet asked if Fugaku wanted the towel back. What she presented didn't even look like _fabric_ by the time Kumoshiro finished destroying it.

"You know how animals sometimes take on the personalities of their owners?" Fugaku watched as the Utatane boy's head nodded along in understanding. "Kumoshiro's her long lost twin."

A few months ago, every graduate from Fugaku's academy class vowed to have occasional group gatherings within their circle of friends until everyone graduated and belonged to an official team. Academy student, genin: it didn't matter. So long as missions remained slow-moving, easy, and of little consequence, the genin found holes in their schedule wide enough to arrange for a weekly get-together. Each time, they'd meet at a new (preferably a restaurant), pool their funds (mostly Tohru's) together, and do something special.

Last week, Fugaku, Tohru, and Mitsumi coordinated a scavenger hunt across the village. Mitsumi used her love of cryptography and riddles to create difficult clues, Tohru bought the treasures for the hunt, and Fugaku asked Sanjo to be a good senpai and hide everything so he could compete. It felt more like a mission than some of his real ones. It had been fun, too, even though he didn't win. Neyuki had, though Mikuro accused him of using his Inuzuka nose to cheat.

Another week, they ate dinner and camped out at Neyuki's home. The original plan was to spend the whole weekend performing a wilderness survival exercise, but it quickly devolved into everyone trying to out-scare each other with horror stories. Cousin Kaede reigned supreme that day, only for her to confess to Fugaku the following Monday that she'd only made up one story. The rest, she'd "borrowed" from a book series she and Mitsumi followed.

The whole point was to build strong bonds and make sure no one was isolated. Community was important. Time and again, Sarani emphasized that to his son. Fugaku was ready to throw himself headfirst into missions and climb up the ranks, but his father wanted so desperately for him to take his time and build enough good memories to last a lifetime. If they built the foundation now, they'd still have each other as adults.

Maybe their children would be friends and carry on these gatherings as a new tradition. Or maybe, if one of them felt the sort of pain Mitsumi already experienced and lost a parent, the group could serve as a second family. They'd build each other up in care and support.

In these gatherings, he and Mitsumi regularly provided summations of their lame, crappy missions. Neyuki and Mikuro did the same, oftentimes talking smack about each other if the other one wasn't there to defend himself. It was a guarantee, though, that they'd find out inevitably, seeing as their third teammate (Kaede) couldn't keep a secret to save her life. Nawaki and Tohru sat there with eager ears, laughing along with the others despite the fact they had yet to graduate.

Kaede didn't always come, even though Mitsumi always invited her. And even though Mikuro had an open invitation and only came every once in a while, Fugaku had been exposed to him long enough to realize he'd been right in his initial assessment of that kid. He was a bigoted prick and it was all Fugaku could do to hold back from wanting to punch that smug look off his smarmy face.

"They won't make me do missions like that when _I_ graduate," Nawaki insisted, proudly thumping his chest. "They'll throw me right into the action because they'll know _I'm_ ready for it. After all–"

"You're the Shodaime's grandson," Mikuro interrupted, stuffing some food in Nawaki's mouth. Everyone else said it altogether. Tohru even silently mouthed his thanks for shutting Nawaki up. "We _know_. And until you graduate for real you're nothing but talk. So come on, you big baby. Catch up to me already."

"Or Fugaku," Tohru murmured.

A recent development for the group was Nawaki's decision to name Fugaku as his rival. While a couple of the others cringed, groaning choice words under their breath, Fugaku accepted the decision and told Nawaki he had good taste. Now if Nawaki could actually _catch up_ to him, that'd be something else.

It was possible, though. The others laughed at Nawaki sometimes and treated him like a joke, but Fugaku had long since stopped underestimating him. Nawaki carried so much stamina and motivation. A late start did not always a bad shinobi make and Nawaki had improved by leaps and bounds once he turned this into a competition. At his core, he was every bit as competitive as Fugaku and the Uchiha boy acknowledged that.

Nawaki _would_ catch up. It could take months or even years, but he'd do it. He was too stubborn and dedicated not to.

Tohru lifted his head to glance up at the clock and frowned. "It's getting late. If we dawdle for much longer, there won't be any sunlight left when we walk home."

"Don't worry, Tohru-kun," Mitsumi offered, scooting her chair closer. "I'll walk you home. I don't think anyone will start anything so long as you have a ninja at your side." He gave her a sheepish smile and accepted her arm when she offered it. Mikuro gave the both of them a sour look, but chose to skulk off on his own. A few minutes later, Neyuki followed suit.

This left Fugaku with only Nawaki. The Senju boy put the money on the table and brushed himself off. "Want me to walk you home?" Fugaku held out his hand for his former classmate, only for Nawaki to push his shoulder instead. "What?"

"I wanna fight," Nawaki insisted. "Think you have time for that?"

"Nawaki, _please._ I always beat you."

"Not tonight, you won't."

"You always say that."

"But I have a new jutsu and–"

"Stop lying. You don't. You're just going to pull out a can of pepper spray or something and run off." He called it. Judging from the annoyed expression on Nawaki's face, Fugaku knew he was right. "Sorry to spoil the 'surprise' of it all, but…come on. Let me walk you home."

That's when Nawaki shoved him. Fugaku shoved back because at ten years old, neither one of them was a fine example of maturity. Off the clock, they didn't have to act like adults. The Senju boy moved in to tackle his friend, only for Fugaku to move out of the way and snicker when Nawaki face-planted the floor.

"Didn't break your nose, did you, _honorable grandson_?" Nawaki shook his fist from the ground. Fugaku tapped him with his shoe before helping him up. "You're hopeless."

"You don't really think that, do you?" Nawaki stumbled back to his feet and scooted toward the door, refusing to use Fugaku for any sort of support. " _Shit_." His sister would wash out his mouth with soap if she heard him talk that way. Good thing she wasn't around. He opened the door, gesturing for Fugaku to leave the restaurant first. "Do you think I'm lame?"

The other kids did occasionally snicker and chuckle at Nawaki's failures and pitfalls, but Fugaku felt like he had enough sense to keep that comment to himself. It wasn't isolated to only Nawaki, though. He was convinced the others would get just as much amusement out of his own failures. "I used to," he admitted. "I don't anymore."

"Then fight me." There was a determined, yet desperate, plea in his tone. "You keep saying it's not worth your time, but I _am_. I'll prove it by–"

"Remember that first time we played war in the woods?" Fugaku blurted out. It had been a couple of years, but he remembered. Judging from how pale Nawaki turned, the other boy clearly remembered it too. "And I threw a real shuriken instead of a fake one?" Nawaki gingerly nodded. "And remember the time I showed you what else I could do? _Before_ I got my headband? I want you to come at this when you're at your best. That's why I'm not going to fight an _academy student._ "

Nawaki went quiet for a moment and glanced down. "So you won't fight me until I'm a genin?"

"Exactly." Fugaku patted Nawaki on the back and walked him further down the street. With Tsunade joining the fight, and this village in a state of immense worry, the last thing anyone needed was for Nawaki to get hurt. "So stop sulking about it and actually work on a master plan to beat me. Catch me by surprise when you finally join my rank and show me what you're really made of. Deal?"

"Okay. Deal."


	12. Projection

Later, he'd confess to Nawaki and Tohru that this was a mistake. Tohru had teasingly referred to him as a "lady's man" because Mitsumi and a few of the Uchiha girls wanted to spend the afternoon with him. Fugaku was no such thing. He was just a bag mule they dragged along to carry their things as they helped one of his clan aunties shop.

At least he wasn't alone in his misery. After completing a mission abroad, Sanjo received a week-long reprieve and agreed to come along because (in his own words) he couldn't find anything better to do. Fugaku doubted that, considering Sanjo was a chūnin, but he chose to simply roll with it and be grateful that he wouldn't be the lone Y chromosome in a sea of estrogen.

"Where did they send you? Was it dangerous? Come on!" Fugaku asked, nudging the teenager. Sanjo slid whatever he'd pulled out of his pocket right back inside. "You were out of the village for a whole month and I really missed you."

"You're _ten_ ," Sanjo grunted in reply, thumping the side of the boy's head. He was smirking, though. "Get the fuck over yourself."

This was part of the reason why Fugaku adored him so much. Although he had yet to hear the full story, Fugaku was at least aware he wasn't Sarani and Kazusa's only child. He wasn't even their first. Several years ago, they had another son, Keita, who died from a fever. He didn't even know the baby's name, but he would have been around Sanjo's age if he lived.

Sanjo was an only child and—not that it was any secret to those who knew his parents—an _unplanned_ one at that. His parents, Kitaro and Nanami, had been a couple of stupid love-struck teenagers who didn't know the first thing about child-rearing. As a result, they tried to be their son's friends rather than his parents. Sanjo responded by seeking out more responsible adults and playing big brother with the little kids.

Fugaku reveled in being Sanjo's favorite. His only fear was that this would change in the very near future. The reason for this shopping trip only brought further attention to the problem: Sanjo couldn't be _his_ "big brother" anymore when he'd be somebody else's for _real_.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Nanami _-oba_ announced her pregnancy at a clan meeting. People talked. Now all the kids knew, too, and people wanted to congratulate her every chance they could. Considering Nanami worked in the prison as a correctional officer, Kazusa put her on temporary leave. There was no reason to jeopardize the baby by putting it in close proximity to a group of angry inmates.

"Look!" Kaede called out, holding up a set of animal-themed onesies. She'd found a lamb suit and wiggled the pink footies. A bell around the neck jingled. "What do you think? Won't the baby look cute in this?"

Mitsumi and two other girls squealed and cooed in a chorus of _aww_. Sanjo winced and let loose a slow, whiny groan. "I'm creeped out," the teenager confessed to his ten-year-old friend.

"Why?"

Every last girl was intoxicated off the baby vibe. Each one picked out another outfit, eager to buy one. Little lions, little tigers, little monkeys, little pandas…

Sanjo groaned out another whiny noise. "It's like you can hear how hungry their wombs are."

"You're _gross_. You know that?" Fugaku hissed, but was Sanjo right? The way they were squealing and holding up baby toys, laughing together, and pushing that empty stroller suddenly made him mildly uncomfortable, too. "Girls like babies. It's a fact of life. _You_ get over yourself."

Sanjo's next words came out kind of wistful, almost sincere. "They like the _thought_ of them, anyway. Then they change their minds once they realize all they do is scream, eat, cry, puke, shit, and piss. Babies aren't dolls," which was _exactly_ what Mikoto held up next to the outfits Kaede picked out. She fervently insisted that the older girl help her dress it. "Just you wait. My mom's going to push this little shit over to me so she can get a decent night's sleep."

"Look at this little swing!" Mitsumi cheered, holding up a baby swing. "He can rock himself in this when he's bigger!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" Sanjo grumbled a few more profanities under his breath and left, raising both hands to show how done he was.

Fugaku ran after him, abandoning all the bags. "Hey! Wait up!"

…

"I know she said they cleaned the house for the baby shower, but I'm calling bullshit until we're inside and I see for myself."

"Kazusa, that's rude." Naho shook her head in disbelief. Today, she and Kaede wore matching bubblegum pink kimonos with white butterfly brocade. Fugaku failed to see the appeal and figured this was, once again, more of a girl thing. "And _you're_ really one to talk. Your house smells like–"

"Can you two _not_ do this today?" Fugaku grumbled. It was bad enough that they wanted him to come along for something as boring as a baby shower. The two women laughed, whispering between themselves. Once they got like that, his mother and his aunt were lost in their own world. Naho would whisper something, Kazusa would roar out a good laugh, and they'd start elbowing each other like overgrown children.

Not that he'd ever admit it aloud, but this would be Fugaku's first time seeing Sanjo's home in a clean state. Both his parents worked long hours and couldn't be bothered to do much more than take out the trash and occasionally tidy up to keep the house from smelling bad. Dirty laundry and shoes flew everywhere once work ended and Sanjo learned to be a slob by example.

"Good afternoon!" Fugaku looked up to see Nanami _-oba_ , Sanjo's mother, standing happily at the front of her house with a small baby bump beneath her buttercup-yellow blouse. "Fugaku-kun, Sanjo's going to be so happy to see you. He's–"

"Yeah, I am." He seemed slightly sweaty. "Hi." His upper lip was chapped and cracked. "Let's go." Where? " _Now_. Before it gets weird." Sanjo reached for Fugaku's hand and dragged the boy behind him, making their way to his back yard. It wasn't much: a tiny postage-stamp yard with a white fence and a few berry plants in raised beds at the edges. Most of the cultivated plants were overgrown with weeds: another testament to the family's laziness.

And the moment Sanjo confirmed the only person watching him was his much younger guest, he reached for the thing in his pocket again: a carton of cigarettes.

' _Your hands are shaking, Sanjo-nii.'_ Why on earth was Sanjo so wound up? Didn't he realize how much he was going to love this baby once it was born?

After Fugaku went fishing with his father and caught the biggest fish in the lake, Sarani had begun to open up more. He'd shared more about himself with his son after that, including a mention that he'd been an older brother once. Up until Sarani became a father, Yasashī had been the light of his life. He even feared fatherhood at first because he doubted anyone would fill the hole in his heart Yasashī left behind when he drowned.

So it stood to reason that if Sanjo already thought of him as a little brother and enjoyed his company, he would love a real one even more. "Why are you so jittery?" Fugaku asked. A part of him worried something may have happened to his older friend during that last mission. Sanjo never _did_ tell him where he'd gone or what he did. "Sanjo, your _hands_."

"I'm not ready for this," he admitted. "I've _killed_ people, kid." His trembling hand tried its utmost to get a flame from the lighter, but it had long since run out of fluid. Nothing came out but a couple of pitiful sparks. "I even set somebody on fire, but I never signed up for this. Babies are…" His skin turned pale and he shook his head. "And for fuck's sake, they didn't even do a great job of raising _me,_ did they? This is gonna be a whole lot of my problem once my mother stops paying attention to it. Wouldn't be the first time, either."

"But you're an only child, aren't you?"

"So?" Sanjo went overboard, wasting chakra with a small fireball just so he could light the cigarette and take a toke. "Besides, I've seen some bad parents in this clan over the years. Your parents hovered all over you because they were scared to death they'd fuck up and lose you. Naho, though? They couldn't even convince her to _look_ at Kaede for the first couple of weeks."

Something about Sanjo's breath smelled weird. Fugaku didn't like it. "They didn't _have_ to raise you," he growled. "It doesn't matter, even. You're like a brother to me." The teenager put the cigarette down, his nervous face easing up ever so slightly. "I mean that. Who taught me how to tie my shoes?"

"I did."

"Who helped me with my homework I was stuck and my parents were too busy to help me?"

"Again, me." Sanjo got the point and a bit more of the tension dissipated. "But if we're having confession time, I have to fess up; I taught you the wrong color names on purpose so you'd argue with your teacher and end up in time out." There was a long pause as he turned to see Fugaku's irked face. "Oh, come on. You _knew_."

…

The baby wasn't even _born_ yet, and Fugaku could see the tears building up in his son's eyes from across the room. "He didn't mean it," Mikoto soothed, petting Itachi's hair. "Sanjo- _oji_ is just a little drunk. Don't pay him any mind."

Fugaku heard that tiny exchange and felt his blood boil. "What did he say, exactly? Mikoto?" His wife gestured for him to come closer, though her face made it clear she didn't wish to start any trouble. When her husband came in closer, she leaned upward and whispered Sanjo's words into his ear. "I'll take care of it."

"It's not worth it," Mikoto insisted. "Don't make a scene."

Too late. There was a time and place for everything, but he'd never excuse his friend for talking like that to his son.

It didn't matter that Sanjo had acted as an older brother figure to him for over thirty years. It didn't even matter that Sanjo was the one who showed him that being removed from his team and placed in the Konoha Military Police Force wasn't going to be the end of the world. There were simply some things you didn't say in front of impressionable children.

Some of his other officers were elsewhere in the house. Inabi and Tekka were playing some sort of game involving Tekka's hand as Inabi stabbed a knife between the fingers as fast as he could without nicking his partner. Yashiro and his wife were arguing over who had the more stressful department to deal with. A while ago, Fugaku had promoted Yashiro to lead the Homicide department. His wife had been promoted many years before, back when Kazusa still ruled the clan. She handled Vice.

Yakumi mostly sat in the corner, sipping on his drink and minding his own business. "Hello, Fugaku-taichou. Were you looking for someone?"

"Yeah. Who's seen Sanjo?" He noted the awkward expressions on his subordinates' faces and cringed. ' _Shit. Did he say something to them, too?!_ '

"Last I saw, he went to hang out with the ladies."

Fugaku grumbled a quick thanks, then proceeded toward the living room. There, sitting on the couch with his fourth half-empty bottle in hand, was Sanjo's strung-out scarecrow body. "What did you say to my son?" Fugaku growled, narrowing his eyes at his older friend.

Itachi had naïvely pulled Sanjo aside, knowing how much this man once meant to his father, and asked him for advice on what he could do to be a good big brother.

Sanjo didn't even look up at Fugaku. His eyes remained black and dead-looking as he took another swig. "Just the truth: that he's better off as an only child." It used to only be tobacco. It had evolved into other things over the years. His love for this man kept Fugaku silent when some of the confiscated contraband in the evidence room mysteriously disappeared.

"Hideo and Sengen ruined my life." But this time, Fugaku wasn't laughing. "And this is coming from a man who doesn't even have half his face anymore. All that second kid's gonna do is fuck Itachi over."

Sengen, Sanjo's little sister, suffered a severe neurological trauma as a baby. As a result, despite the fact she activated her sharingan, she'd spent her whole life in leg braces and couldn't participate in Academy. Just as Sanjo predicted, his sister's health problems became his problems because his parents were too busy to tend to her.

As for Hideo, Sanjo's brother? The clan pegged Hideo for a dud by the time the kid was four. Here he was, a grown man, and he never activated his sharingan. Beyond that, his fire element was a _joke._ All he ever succeeded in producing was a lot of foul-smelling smoke. But there was a stark contrast between the brothers: for all the sardonic, cynical, sarcastic remarks Sanjo made, Hideo was one of the KMPF's few true optimists. He had it in him to laugh at his mistakes and encouraged others to do the same.

Even if the whole clan saw him as a sorry excuse for an Uchiha, Hideo was a good person to the core and cared deeply about everyone, even outside of the clan. That was admirable in its own right.

Now Fugaku began to wonder why he ever saw _anything_ admirable in Sanjo. Was he so desperate for that kind of attention that he caved as soon as an older boy treated him like a person instead of a future leader? Or was it his knowing that Sanjo was just as lonely as he was, even more so after Hideo was born?

Hideo and Sengen _did_ fuck him over. That was the problem. As sweet, delightful, and loving as Hideo was, his mere presence destroyed whatever faith Sanjo's parents had in him. They marked him off as a lost cause and blamed themselves for his bad behavior. And Sengen would never be able to live independently, not with her plethora of health issues.

"You have no right to talk to him like that," Fugaku hissed, grabbing Sanjo by the wrist. Angrily, he dragged the older man outside, noting how Sanjo put up no resistance. He knew his big mouth screwed him up. "I care about you, but you've been wearing on my last goddamn nerve."

"Fugaku, I–"

"I turned a blind eye when you stole from the evidence room. Your mother was sick. You needed the extra money. I understood that." Sanjo had guilted him into it. "When your former teammate died under mysterious circumstances, I asked Yashiro to rule it as a suicide to keep the Yamanaka Clan from pressing charges against you."

"Fugaku, you don't understand. Hideaki was a monster. You don't know what he did to his—"

"I DON'T WANT ANOTHER EXCUSE OUT OF YOU!" It tore him up to do this, but he couldn't stop himself. Fugaku's arm swung as though it had a mind of its own, landing right in Sanjo's shoulder. Sanjo had to know how much power he had over Fugaku back in the day. One punch led to another and another and _another_ , but Sanjo was too intoxicated to put up a decent fight.

His lip split. His nose broke. A trickle of blood dribbled down his face as it turned purple and puffy.

"My son isn't like you," Fugaku hissed, grabbing onto the older man's shirt.

Thank the gods for Mikoto sometimes. She turned the music up louder and made a huge fuss inside over all the cute things Naho and the other clan women bought for the baby. The women had no idea what was going on, just as Fugaku had no idea a pair of young, terrified eyes watched every last blow. With each punch, Sanjo moved further toward the edge of the hill.

Why couldn't Sanjo simply feel what the rest of the clan felt: _joy_? Fugaku was cheated out of having a real sibling. And here was someone who had two, yet treated both like garbage. A person like this, a person this _hateful:_ he would never want him near his children again.

"And my other son won't be like Hideo. Itachi has enough control over himself to _never_ …he'll _never_ end up like…"

"Nah," Sanjo wheezed. "He will. You'll see. That baby's gonna take over everything. That's what they _do_. They–"

That last swing went to the face. The older Uchiha lost his balance, tumbling down the hill. The other men stepped aside.

"This isn't your family, Sanjo." Not anymore. Maybe no one noticed how much his own words shook in saying that, or how his voice hitched as he stopped himself from calling him _Sanjo-nii_ like in the good old days.

Maybe he could save this, step back inside, and put on a good face for his wife's guests. "Ah…Kushina. Great to see you…"


	13. Silver Spoon

Eleven was a very productive year for Fugaku. Out of his class, he was the first genin to be promoted to chūnin rank. Although he had been given permission to attend clan meetings as early as his graduation from Academy, it was Kazusa and Sarani's belief that he was now mature enough to become actively involved.

If Mitsumi was preoccupied with an unappealing D-Rank, Fugaku could excuse himself to assist his parents by running small errands for the KMPF. File papers. Take inventory of the evidence room to ensure nothing went missing. Review evidence to see if a confession added up. Order and deliver takeout to feed the officers pulling all-nighters alongside their chief.

"You'll work here someday," was Kazusa's logic. "They might as well get used to seeing you." She wanted to acclimate him to his future role as the head of the military police. Privately, she prayed that he liked it.

So far, he did. It took an elite clan to run an elite operation, and each squad had its rising stars: people who would become important by the time Fugaku took over his mother's duties. For instance, there was a sixteen-year-old chūnin in the homicide department who took to Fugaku's occasional addition like it was the most natural thing in the world. However, Kazusa didn't find it terribly funny that Yashiro was already jokingly referring to her child as _Fugaku-taichou_.

"He hasn't earned that yet!" she'd snapped. "Don't give him any preferential treatment, just because he's my son." Fugaku hadn't minded. If anything, he'd found it funny and told Yashiro that later.

The younger officers in the homicide squad were a morbid, irreverent bunch. They'd make off-color quips about some of the more bizarre corpses they encountered on the job. And if Fugaku asked for the gory details, the older boys were more than happy to elaborate. Yashiro even offered to show Fugaku his first dead body, but (again) Kazusa halted him.

"You're going to destroy whatever innocence my son still has," was her argument. As soon as she was out of earshot, Yashiro rolled his eyes and grumbled a cheeky retort to himself: that whatever innocence Fugaku had, chances were he lost it around Sanjo ages ago. Fugaku agreed.

As for Sanjo, he'd accepted a transfer to the vice squad. Most of the crimes he handled involved gambling, controlled and illicit substances, weapon smuggling, and even the occasional sex crime. Again, his younger friend wanted to hear all about it. Sanjo was more than happy to oblige.

Most importantly, Fugaku felt more connected to his clan than ever before. By comparison, his missions with Mitsumi felt mundane: saved only by her company and the weekly gatherings with the other kids from his former class. Even a whole week of dull, annoying missions leading the two of them to nowhere could be forgiven so long as he saw Tohru, Nawaki, and the others over a meal and a relaxed evening.

But today was special, seeing as a new list of graduates would be joining the genin ranks. His hopes were high, seeing as a fresh graduate could take the spot of that lazy "senpai" on his squad and there was a higher likelihood he'd know the kid.

Both of his parents were quietly nibbling at their breakfasts. It had been a lot of late nights for them over the past couple of months. There was something about the more extreme months (hot or cold) that somehow brought out the worst in Konoha's shinobi. Occasionally, Sarani's eyelids grew droopy and his head hung forward, only for him to pull himself upright again as though he were on the verge of falling. Kazusa couldn't stop yawning.

If someone was going to break the silence, it had to be Fugaku. "The Academy is announcing who graduated this semester," he volunteered. "If I recognize any of the names…" It would be the end of lazy Hyūga Kenji sitting and doing nothing on his squad. It meant someone he knew could take the spot and then, maybe then, they'd get a permanent jōnin instructor. A boy could dream.

Kazusa smirked. "Well, if that happens, stop by HQ and tell me all about it. Are you going to the graduation ceremony?"

Fugaku shook his head. "I have a mission with Shinohara this morning." They were painting somebody's fence. Joy of joys. He opened the refrigerator, found his bento, and left.

…

Their rally point was fairly close to Yamanaka Flowers, seeing as the storeowner's wife requested the paint job. There, forever the early bird, was Mitsumi. She sat on a nearby bench, lost in her own little world as she attempted to compare the contents of two pages: both of which were littered with nonsensical symbols.

To tease her, Fugaku moved as quietly and stealthily as possible until he made it in the shady area behind the bench. Once Mitsumi hunched down to write another non-word, he poked her. The girl yelped as though she'd been scalded and jumped about a foot in the air. "Don't do that, you jerk!"

"Sorry." No, he wasn't. "But you left yourself wide open. I couldn't help myself."

"Yes, you could," the freckled auburn murmured before readjusting her thick glasses. "If I dropped these, ooooooh! Do you even know what I was doing?" No, but he had a feeling she was about to tell him. "I'm working on my application to join the Cryptanalysis Team. Decoding a ninety-page document is no easy feat, Fugaku-kun. I've been on the same page for a week!"

"Then you can't be _that_ good at it."

She glared at him for that. "Whatever. I'm just glad you're here instead of with your mother. Does this mean we can both walk over to the Academy and see who leaves with a headband?"

"I'm here, aren't I? What do you think?" He held out his arm for her in an attempt to be a gentleman. "I have a good feeling this time." By that, he meant he had enough faith in the improvements of their friends who were still in academy to believe they'd graduate.

Nawaki trained himself to the point of exhaustion day after day, refusing to call it quits. Although Fugaku refused to fight the Senju boy until they were of the same rank (and with his recent promotion, that complicated matters), he wasn't opposed to training him and sharing some of the techniques he felt Nawaki could do.

It would be an insult to Nawaki if he didn't pass this time. Fugaku felt he was ready, and he'd also felt the same about Tohru for the past six months. Both boys knew how to protect themselves and complete a mission. Most of the group gatherings had resulted in practice missions. He, Neyuki, and Mitsumi bandied together to drill the others on what to do, how to do it well, and how to keep themselves alive. Even Mikuro pitched in on occasion, when he could be bothered to grace the others with his intermittent presence.

"You'll be a great sensei for some kid someday," Mitsumi teased. "If you show them half as much attention and determination as you've shown Nawaki, you'll train a Hokage _._ "

"It's cute that you think I'll be anyone's sensei." He knew better. His future was predetermined: he'd be part of the Konohagakure Military Police Force and lead the Uchiha Clan someday. When would he have time for one or more students when his life revolved around the service and protection of the clan and village? " _You'd_ be great, Shinohara."

"Oh, _hush_. I'm still a genin!" So were most people their age. So were most people _Sanjo and Yashiro's_ age. People merely hit promotions faster in wartime because more bodies were needed. "I need to improve my skills and gain a lot more experience before I think about doing anything beyond what I do now." Sometimes he felt she was too humble and undersold her skills.

"Like this Cryptanalysis thing? What's that about?"

"You know how I liked doing word searches and crossword puzzles in school?" Mitsumi could barely contain the rosiness in her cheeks. "This is like that, but actually useful. I'm learning secret languages and translating them so other Konoha ninjas can read the notes."

"But don't those people just sit at a desk all day?" It didn't sound all that exciting to him. "You'd be handling paperwork from sunrise to sunset, Shinohara. Be careful what you wish for."

"Hey, now. Just because I have options doesn't mean you should laugh at my dreams." Her dreams? Translating squiggles on paper was her dream? Fugaku wanted to laugh, but managed to keep himself collected. "Besides, this is for the day when we part ways, okay? I'm not leaving you behind while we're still a team."

He sighed in relief. "Good. Because the way you made it sound…"

Mitsumi put the papers away, back inside her daffodil yellow bag. Once her work was good and secure, she wrapped her arms around Fugaku's right arm and moved toward the Academy. "Alright, Fugaku-kun. Let's take care of that pesky mission so we can focus on what's _really_ important. You in?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

…

The mission had been easy enough. A new bank had opened up in the south end and hired two genin teams to simulate a heist. Not only was it good infiltration practice, but also helped the bank determine if they needed to step up their security. In preparation, Mitsumi had wrapped thin wire inside her twin braids, just in case they needed to pick a lock.

And go figure: Hyūga Kenji never showed up. Mitsumi grumbled a few curses under her breath as she tried to crack the code for the vault. "What can I be doing right now?" Fugaku asked. "Anything?"

"Yeah. Keep an eye out for Kaede's team," Mitsumi ordered. "The last thing I want is for Mikuro, Neyuki, and Kaede to show us up, just because all three of them reported for duty."

But they hadn't gotten this far. Neyuki had barked that this was a robbery, only for Kaede and Mikuro to abandon him in the lobby. The bank security was on to them and hadn't noticed the other pair. That and somehow, just _somehow_ , Fugaku felt his team had an advantage with Mitsumi's nerd skills. The safe opened, but there was nothing inside other than a note.

 **Please don't arrest the children. This was part of a security drill.**

Good thing they hadn't been the real deal; the bank wasn't stocked yet!

"Mission accomplished?" Mitsumi asked, craning her head around the corner. "What's in there, anyway?"

Fugaku tucked the paper into his pocket. "Just a note. We need to hurry." And it had nothing to do with the mission. If they wasted any more time in the bank, they'd miss the tail end of the graduation ceremony.

He ran as fast as he could, watching as Mitsumi did the same with her long, gangly crane legs. She was already significantly taller than him: tall enough for her braids to occasionally slap him in the face as they darted out of the bank and toward the Academy. And as soon as Mikuro and Kaede saw them do that, they followed suit.

Fugaku lost count of how many twists and turns he and the others had to make to return to the Konohagakure Ninja Academy, but it didn't matter. The graduates and their families had already gone home. A few of the teachers were still around, but that was it.

"Why, hello there!" an older man with faded mauve hair called out. "You missed the ceremony, kids."

"We…" Mikuro gasped for air, trying to catch his breath. His face had turned the color of a strained beet. "We noticed…"

"We tried our best to wrap up a mission in time to make it for the end, but I guess we weren't successful. Sensei…" Mitsumi politely bowed. "When we graduated, the Academy posted up the list of new genin and their assigned teams. Did they do that this time?"

"There's a paper over here!" Kaede called out. "And I see a few familiar names!" Everyone scrambled to get closer to the Uchiha girl, even going so far as to knock her out of the way to see if a friend's name was anywhere on the list. "Aw…"

"What?"

"Tohru-kun isn't on the list." Kaede teasingly gave one of Mitsumi's braids a tug and smirked at her. "I bet that's a real let-down for you, huh? With your little crush and—"

"Oh my god. Shut up." Mitsumi wasn't having any of this nonsense today. It didn't take much to push a tiny thing like Kaede out of her way, all so she could squint beneath her glasses and look good and hard at the list of names. "What!? You've gotta be _kidding_ me!"

"What is it, Shinohara?" Fugaku called out.

Mitsumi turned around to face him. Her freckled face was completely contorted into an expression of all-around disappointment. "Pardon my language, but this is bullshit. See for yourself."

That caught his attention. The other kids moved out of the way so Fugaku could read the list for himself. True to Kaede's word, Utatane Tohru's name wasn't among the graduates. He'd be repeating the final year _again_ , which made virtually no sense to Fugaku. Tohru was more than qualified, wasn't he?

However, he did see Senju Nawaki's name on the list. ' _Oh, good. He made it._ ' Nawaki tried really hard to graduate. He'd improved by leaps and bounds with a good steady rival to keep him on his toes.

A bit further down the list, Fugaku saw his name alongside Mitsumi's as a team accepting a new genin. That in and of itself wasn't so bad. He was half tempted to dance for joy in knowing he'd never go on a mission with lazy Hyūga Kenji ever again. That guy did nothing but outsource the work to the others. When Fugaku griped about it to Sanjo once, the older Uchiha casually asked if this meant he could beat Kenji up. Fugaku merely smiled and let Sanjo make his own conclusion.

The way Mitsumi paced back and forth unnerved him. Nervous pacing was one of those things she did when something didn't sit right with her, like a bad order or a piece of encryption she couldn't decode. "So we're getting a new genin. Big deal. Why are you so wound up?"

So long as they didn't get that brute boy who used to intentionally seek him out for fights, Fugaku wouldn't complain. Any of his other former classmates would be welcome. "Are you _that_ upset it's not Tohru?"

True, ages ago, he and Mitsumi both agreed that they wanted Tohru above all others. This still rang true. Tohru was clever, charismatic, and very diplomatic. Some of the others called them the _intellectual trio_ already, insisting that it might not be a bad idea to put three of the brainiest children together. A team like that could potentially change the future.

But his name wasn't among the graduates. He'd be repeating again. And everyone was wondering how that was even possible.

"It isn't so much that," Mitsumi groaned. "It's the fact _Nawaki_ passed and he didn't. Tohru-kun isn't stupid. I saw his marks. He was always near the top of the class. I think they made a mistake."

"Maybe he cracked under pressure?" Kaede offered, trying to be helpful. A couple of people shot her dirty looks for that.

"Mitsumi-san's right," Mikuro chimed in. "This is a shock: the _Honorable Grandson_ is a genin and Tohru's not."

"Ugh. What is this world coming to!?" Mitsumi tugged on both her braids and groaned.

Then Fugaku saw who their third teammate would be and understood a bit more of Mitsumi's annoyance. She and Nawaki didn't get along, but he'd be joining them. Fugaku was lukewarm about it, personally. He would have preferred Tohru, too, but Nawaki wasn't that bad of a choice. This could potentially work if—

"I'm going home. This is a load of–"

"Suit yourself." Sometimes he couldn't concede to Mitsumi's complaints. Nawaki would still do his best and give 100%. Fugaku would make sure that he was there to welcome him to the team and only encourage him further from here on out.

Before, they were merely classmates. Then they became friends, later rivals. Now it was more than that. They were _teammates_. Fugaku now held himself accountable for Nawaki's progress and he'd see him triumph. "I'm going to congratulate him. You don't want to join me?"

This time, Mitsumi shook her head and decided to part ways. She'd rather attempt to console Tohru, not that Fugaku thought his friend needed it. Tohru was so laidback that he'd merely say he'd try harder next time and leave it at that.

…

It felt as though he'd made the trek to Nawaki's home a thousand times. This time, the purpose of his visit would differ. A new sense of dread filled him with every footstep, but not for the same reasons Mitsumi felt. Mitsumi was disappointed that she didn't get her dream team, but she'd get over it. Fugaku's fear came more in wondering how Nawaki's mother (not to mention _his_ parents) would view this placement.

He could already imagine Kazusa's words. She'd be the one to suspect a conspiracy even when there wasn't one. Placing the Uchiha heir apparent on the same team as the Shodaime's grandson gave off what Kazusa tended to call a "bad smell."

Nawaki's mother seemed nice; but what if her attitude changed, now that she knew there'd be an Uchiha on her son's team? By the time he made it to the door, Fugaku couldn't bring himself to knock. His hand trembled in hesitation and his throat felt obstructed in panic. This family had _so much._ They were affluent, illustrious, loved by the entire village. Tohru made the occasional snide remark about Nawaki being "a little prince" a few times before, but Fugaku let it slide in the past, especially considering Tohru was rather spoiled too.

Now the severity of the statement made far more sense and he couldn't shake his panic. ' _If he gets hurt, they'll blame me.'_ Mitsumi could take care of herself and knew how to break out of almost any restraint. For that, Fugaku seldom worried about her. Nawaki couldn't go ten minutes into a mock-fight without being tethered to a tree by a rope or bola. He–

The door swung wide open and there stood Nawaki, grinning from ear to ear. "Did you hear? Did you!?" The Senju boy happily pointed at his hitai-ate and threw his arms excitedly around the other boy. "I'm on your team!" Nawaki's excitement was contagious. Internally, Fugaku wanted to hug him back and make a fuss, but it wasn't in his nature to do so. "Finally!"

He wanted to say something sarcastic, but nothing came to mind. Almost every time Nawaki announced something, Fugaku felt it was his duty and obligation to respond with a cheeky quip or retort. This time, no words at all found their way to his lips.

' _Are you really that excited to be on a team with me?'_ he wondered. ' _I'm excited and terrified.'_ As nice as it was to have someone think he was great, Fugaku dreaded messing this up and somehow failing Nawaki. This boy saw him as his rival: the one person his age that he wanted to outshine.

"Where's Mitsumi-chan? Did she come with you?" Nawaki's joyous smile waned once he realized Fugaku came alone. "I guess she had something else to do?"

' _You know better. You aren't fooling me for an instant.'_ Fugaku wasn't a Yamanaka, but he didn't need to read minds to read Nawaki's face. Mitsumi's absence from this moment hadn't gone unnoticed. "She really had her heart set on having Tohru on the team," Fugaku confessed, watching as the last of Nawaki's smile cracked and crumbled away. "But she'll come around eventually."

"Even if she doesn't, it's okay." Nawaki brushed the fabric on Fugaku's sleeve before tugging it, urging him to come inside. "I'm just happy I'm on the same team as you. After all, you're my best friend."

Those words caught him by surprise, causing Fugaku to pause. Tohru had been his best friend for as far back as he could remember, but to find out that someone else adored him the most, above all others–

"What kind of missions do you think we'll go on? Since you and Mitsumi-chan have more experience and you're a chūnin now," so he noticed, "I stand by what I said before. I won't have to go on lame missions because I'm with you. Right?"

"More like I may have to go on lame missions because I'm with _you_ ," Fugaku retorted. "Nawaki, you're a very special person to this village. They aren't going to put you in harm's way if they can help it."

"Says the future leader of the Uchiha Clan!" Nawaki made his way into his kitchen and came back with a couple of bottled barley teas. He tossed one to Fugaku, laughing when the boy dive-bombed to catch it. "If we're both gonna be leaders someday, then they should make sure we're good and strong. That's what _I_ think."

"They should also make sure we live long enough to _become_ good and strong." In some ways, they thought like polar opposites of one another. It was one of a thousand reasons why he found himself endlessly entertained by this boy. As serious and severe as his own clan could be, Nawaki was a welcome breath of fresh air. "So, now you're a genin."

"Mmhmm!"

"Congratulations, Nawaki." Fugaku twisted the top off his tea, took a swig, and smirked at his friend before making the same off-color remark Sanjo made when he first graduated. The only difference was that he meant it as a joke. "You're cannon fodder."

"Booooooo. You're _mean_." Nawaki thumped his friend's shoulder and leaned in to admit something in Fugaku's ear. "And for the record, I should've graduated last time."

"Uh huh. _Sure_. The teachers certainly didn't think so." But there was something in Nawaki's tone that made him sound serious. Sure, Nawaki rightfully earned his reputation as a goofball, but this didn't sound like a joke anymore. "If you had a qualifying score, they would have–"

"Yeah, you'd think that. Gimme a second. I'll be _right back_." Nawaki darted off, rushing into what appeared to be a giant study. When he returned, he had a whole slew of his report cards on hand. "Look at the last eight of these. After you graduated, I constantly ranked in the top five." And after Fugaku started training Nawaki in earnest, Nawaki moved from the _top five_ to the _top three_.

There it was, plain as day, along with their teacher's recommendation for graduation. Fugaku recognized this paper. If a child had a parent or guardian acting in their best interest, they were to sign and acknowledge the graduation date. Hasu, Nawaki's mother, hadn't signed. "You didn't forget to give this to your mom, did you? I've seen your backpack a thousand times. It's a _black hole_ and–"

Nawaki scowled, taking the paper back. "There's no way I'd forget to give her _this!_ I showed it to her. The next day, Yuji-sensei changed his mind and said I wasn't ready after all. He did the same thing to Tohru. I talked to him about it and he said it happened to him last semester, too."

Fugaku couldn't believe what he was hearing. Some parents _didn't_ want their children to graduate?! The more his brain began to mull over his confusion, he realized the uncomfortable truth: some very talented kids were stuck in the academy. Those same kids were all children of important people. "She didn't let you graduate because she wanted to keep you safe…?" Was that it?

"Tch. I _guess_." Nawaki was annoyed beyond belief over it. "If I'd graduated a few months ago, then we _both_ could have been genin at the same time and you'd fight me for real." He flopped down on the couch and sprawled out like a cat. "I confronted her this time and told her she'd _really_ have to do something great for me to get on my good side again."

"Let you graduate?" Fugaku asked, only for Nawaki's sock-covered foot to poke him in the gut.

Despite his earlier thrill of being on a team with his friend, Fugaku now felt ill. It showed how deep the Senju influence was on this entire village. The whole reason Nawaki was placed on his team had nothing to do with random chance or the Sandaime Hokage thinking this would be a valid team.

 _Nawaki was there because Nawaki_ _ **wanted**_ _to be there._


	14. Broken Face

It was the first snow of the year in Konoha. Fugaku and his former classmates gathered beneath the Hokage Mountain to celebrate a couple of events. The first of these, Mikuro's birthday, he didn't much care about. He and Mikuro had butted heads since Academy started and Fugaku had long since lost his patience for the Shimura boy's smart mouth.

The other reason was more important to Fugaku, seeing as it had to do with Mitsumi. It had taken seemingly forever, but Mitsumi had finally been accepted part time as a member of the Cryptography Corps. Sure, she was still listed as a genin, but the village chose to openly acknowledge her prowess in decryption. She studied hard, always learning new ways to write secret messages, and had a true aptitude for it.

Fugaku honestly couldn't have been prouder. He knew he had a smart girl on his team, and it did his heart good to see her finally being rewarded for those hours upon hours of translating nonsense into sense. She'd loved puzzles since their Academy days, and now she could break codes for the war effort between missions. Good for her.

"And what did the First Sons of Konoha do today?" Mikuro had such a smarmy face. Every time he slinked onto the scene, it took all of Fugaku's patience and restraint to hold back from punching him in the nose. "Mitsumi-chan, do you ever feel like a third wheel: having the Uchiha heir and the Shodaime's grandson for teammates?"

"Tch. _Hardly."_ Mitsumi never let Mikuro's words goad her on. She smiled back in a falsely sweet way that actually meant she wanted Mikuro to shove a kunai up his sphincter. "I feel like second fiddle to Fugaku sometimes, but never Nawaki."

Nawaki had been nibbling on a bag of pretzel snacks up until that point. He stopped what he was doing and glowered at his female teammate for that. When he finally spoke up, he sounded more than a tad hurt. "You don't think I'm awesome, Mitsumi-chan?"

Mitsumi cracked open her can of vending machine coffee and proceeded to drink it while it was still hot. "Let's just say you haven't done anything awesome enough to turn me insecure, Nawaki. That's all."

"See?" Mikuro smirked, elbowing Nawaki in the ribs. The Senju boy squeaked in pain. "She thinks you're lame."

"That's not what I–"

"I'm not lame!" Nawaki shook his soft drink, pulled the tab, and let the thing spray right in Mikuro's face. It stuck to the boy's horn-rimmed glasses, leaving his entire sour face dripping in sugary-sweet cold wetness. "You're just jealous that my family actually amounted to something."

Fugaku's head perked up at that. He'd mostly been actively attempting to ignore Mikuro and did that best by having a semi-private conversation with Tohru. Tohru still had yet to graduate, but it didn't faze him much. He merely stated he'd do better next time and left it at that. Nawaki's comment threw him off. What did he mean by it?

The Shimura Clan, which Mikuro hailed from, was far from a joke. Although the Shimura weren't one of the Four Noble Clans, they were one of the earliest families to join the Uchiha and Senju clans in Konoha's expansion. They had rightfully garnered a reputation for being fierce warriors, enough so that the Hokage kept a member of that clan in charge of ANBU.

Fugaku knew very little about Mikuro's family, but he at least knew about the boy's father. Shimura Zocho was a talented artist and painted all kinds of political artwork for the village, including the portraits for all three Hokages in the central office.

The Academy had a beautiful mural showing the heads of every family responsible for the founding of the village, which Zocho had lovingly painted after losing the use of his right leg. The village allowed him to retire from his shinobi duties and revered him as one of their living treasures. The Fire Daimyo had his portrait painted by Shimura Zocho, as did many of the clan heads. He'd become a status symbol and a celebrity: a master artist.

And yet, Fugaku noted, Zocho never showed up for any major event at the academy, including his own son's graduation. _Kaede_ graduated the same time Nawaki did and Naho could at least bother herself enough to attend with her husband. What was Zocho's excuse? Was he that caught up in his work that he had no time for his child? If so, perhaps that explained Mikuro's sour disposition. It almost excused his actions, but a dick was still a dick at the end of the day. And Mikuro was a dick.

"What do you mean by that?" Mikuro growled at Nawaki. "You think you're _better_ than me?"

This one time, Fugaku paid close attention to Mikuro's face. His cheeks were scarlet, as if in shame, and his eyes were shinier than usual–not that Mikuro was ever the type to admit he was upset. He wasn't smug, sarcastic, and rude this time around, but actually _furious_.

"Your dad's a great artist and all, but let's face it. Your clan's not as strong as mine or Fugaku's."

' _Why the hell are you dragging_ _ **my**_ _name into this? Mikuro and I already don't get along,'_ Fugaku thought, grimacing. He hissed in a breath, only to feel slightly better when Tohru put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. No one did that for Mikuro. He was left to seethe and boil.

The next action happened so fast that it caught everyone by surprise. Mikuro grabbed his open bottle of green tea, still steaming, and squirted its contents at Nawaki. Having had to do such crap seemingly _thousands_ of times before, Fugaku instinctively pushed his teammate out of the way and immediately felt the scalding hot liquid spill across his chest.

Mitsumi shrieked and Tohru quickly tried to take his friend's shirt off in an attempt to remove him from the tea as quickly as possible. Fugaku grimaced, but tried to put on a good face. Yes, he was about ready to throttle Nawaki for being such a loudmouth, but–

"The hell is _wrong_ with you, Mikuro?!" Fugaku couldn't help himself. It was either that or whine in pain when Tohru tried to "help" by putting an ice cold hand on his bare, scalded stomach. It was freezing cold outside, and yet he could see the steam wafting off his angry red skin. His whole chest hurt and the rest of him was shivering.

Mikuro stood there like a scolded child. The hurt still permeated his face (just as the tea had permeated Fugaku's chest) but the anger was replaced with horror over what he'd done. When words finally left his lips, even Fugaku was taken aback by how small he sounded. He _knew_ he screwed up. "I didn't mean to hurt _you_. He insulted my–"

"Nawaki was out of line. _Both_ of you were." Fugaku placed his hands to his stomach, grimacing at he touched the dark pink flesh. When Tohru took off his jacket and let him wear it, the Uchiha boy muttered a small thanks. "Go home, Mikuro."

"I didn't–" He didn't even finish that statement. The dark scowl on the Uchiha boy's face made it abundantly clear that he didn't believe the Shimura boy. Mikuro scowled, putting his old face back on for size. " _Fine._ You're a big man, Nawaki, letting the _real_ ninjas do all the work."

"Mikuro…"

"I got it. I _got_ it. I'm leaving." He flicked his hand as if to shove a bad bug away and stormed off, trying to get Neyuki to tag along like a good dog-boy. Neyuki flipped him the bird, but he complied.

As soon as Mikuro was nowhere near them, Nawaki blew a raspberry and threw his drink in the trash. "Why do we even invite that jerk along to these things, anyway?"

"We invite _you_ along," Tohru muttered under his breath, deciding he'd had enough for one evening. Fugaku heard him. No one else did. "You can give the jacket back to me later, okay? That scald looked pretty bad."

"It feels even worse." Fugaku gave his friend his best "tough guy" smile and waved at him. "Make sure Mikuro gets home in one piece. I know he's your friend, too." Tohru patted his shoulder one more time and scampered off behind the seething Shimura. Mitsumi went in the opposite direction, thinking she'd dealt with enough stupid boy drama to last her until tomorrow.

It left Fugaku once again with only Nawaki. "Thanks for protecting me. Does it…does it hurt?"

"I just said it did." He was pretty angry with him right now. If Nawaki was smart, he'd shut the hell up. "I'm taking you home." That's when he noticed Nawaki's expression sour even further. "What now?"

"You've been a real grouch since I joined the team."

Gee, he wondered _why_. Could it possibly have _anything_ to do with the fact that Nawaki headbutted his own mother into putting him on _this_ team? Or maybe it was how, over the past three months, Nawaki kept pulling crap like this: dragging Fugaku's name into his personal bullshit because he knew he wasn't man enough to handle an issue by himself. It wasn't even only that. Fugaku was more than a bodyguard, an attack dog, a security blanket, and everything else. He was an _accessory_ : a trifle. A _token_.

"And Mitsumi-chan doesn't seem to like me much, either. She always seemed so nice."

Even Fugaku had to admit that Mitsumi was glacial toward Nawaki, but she'd eased up. It couldn't be easy, being a civilian's daughter and having to deal with all the _ridiculous_ bravado this village placed on names like Senju and Uchiha. _Shinohara_ wasn't a legendary shinobi's name. People demeaned her, downplayed her accomplishments, and discredited her talent because she didn't bear a clan surname, but that made her all the more admirable in Fugaku's eyes. She was her _own_ brand of brilliant.

"I'll try harder," Nawaki decided. "Then maybe you'll stop treating me like I'm a little kid and actually fi–"

His fist connected with Nawaki's face before Fugaku even realized he swung at him. Nawaki staggered backward, tripping on the icy sidewalk, and landed in the snow. His warm rump soaked up the cold precipitation and soaked. He made it back to his feet, ready to go, and the next punch went right into his gut.

"You wanna know what's wrong, Nawaki?" He couldn't hold it in anymore. His scalded stomach screamed in pain, he was sitting on these gradually boiling feelings for _weeks_ , and this incident with Mikuro was the final straw. "You've turned into a real _ass_ ever since you graduated." It was punch after punch, and that boy was either too stunned or too scared to fight back. "It's always _Hokage_ this, _Grandpa_ that, _Senju_ … _Hashirama_ … _all this goddamned First Sons of Konoha crap_ …

"You don't even treat me like a person! Fight this guy! _Help_ me! _Show me this move! Fight me!_ Stop acting like such a _spoiled little brat and_ …and…"

All he could hear were scared and immature whimpers coming from his teammate. Nawaki had since tried to cover his face with his trembling arms and turned into a blubbering, crying heap. "No. _No,_ I…"

But Fugaku wasn't even listening. He stormed off, livid.

…

"How was your get-together with the gang?" Sarani poked his head up from his book and lowered his reading glasses so Fugaku could see his father was paying attention to him. "Did you have a snowball fight? Some of the younger guys at work said they were going to bother you with one."

Secretly, Fugaku was glad they didn't. If either Sanjo or Yashiro had shown up, they'd stuff his pants with snow. "No. No snowball fight."

"Is that Tohru's jacket?" Sometimes it was a pain in the ass to have a father as perceptive as Uchiha Sarani. _Nothing_ got past him. _Ever_. "Why are you holding your shirt?" Fugaku took a deep breath and removed the jacket, letting Sarani see the scald. "Son…what happened?!"

That was enough to get Kazusa out of the bathroom. She quickly put on a bathrobe and her slippers, wild black hair in a towel, and made her way to the living room before the robe was even fully tied. Her eyes went right to the scald, but then she noticed something else. "Your hands are bruised. Were you attacked?!"

There was so much fear on both his parents' faces. This village, although safer than the alternative of the generation prior to theirs, still wasn't a safe place after dark in some of the shadier districts. Their house was located in an older neighborhood that had certainly seen better days. Kazusa confided several times that one of her greatest fears was that someone would come after her child.

"No…" He didn't want to talk about what he'd done. As soon as he left, he felt guilty. He wanted to apologize to Nawaki immediately, but the boy ran off, crying the whole way home. "Nawaki and I had a fight." More like he beat him to a pulp and Nawaki took the abuse. A fight was actually honorable. In this moment, he felt about as low as Mikuro. What he'd done was–

"Are you fucking insane?!"

His mother had never spoken to him that way before. Sure, he'd heard her use that kind of tone and language on others (namely Sanjo and his parents), but _never_ with him. It wasn't even rage, but _panic_. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, trying to be gentle before his sore stomach touched her. Her face nuzzled into his shoulder and he could feel a warm wetness. _Tears_. "Do you know how this is going to _look_?!"

"Kazusa," Sarani grimaced. Everyone in the house knew this was bad, but he still felt Kazusa may have been overreacting. "Boys get into fights. It's a fact of life."

"You think _girls_ don't?" Kazusa growled, but her main focus was on her child. "Fugaku, you can't go on your mission tomorrow. Call in sick. Stay home. I don't want you leaving the house until I know it's safe."

" _Okaa-san_ …" But she wasn't some crazy hysterical woman. He _knew_ that. Her fears and worries were always rooted in something she believed and could back up with facts and prior incidents. "It can't…it can't be that bad. He was being a jerk and he knew it. He's sorry."

"He's a _Senju_ ," Kazusa sobbed into his shoulder, holding him tight enough to leave him worrying that maybe she assumed the village would _execute_ him for this slight against that clan. There weren't many of them left. They were so few in number, yet they held more positions of power than any other family. "You have to apologize. That or stay home. This _can't_ linger."

"But he–"

"I'm telling you to do this for your own good. _Please_. Apologize."

…

He never heard so much fear in her voice before. His mother was such a proud, brave, fearless woman the vast majority of the time. Like a lioness, she'd do anything for the sake of the group and protect at all costs. Apologizing to Nawaki like this and losing face was one of the most shameful things Kazusa ever asked him to do, but he knew how much it hurt her to even propose it.

In her heart, and he knew this, she truly did believe she saved him by begging him to make amends with Nawaki. Didn't anyone care how he felt? Friends didn't treat friends like objects.

If he ever began to treat others as pawn pieces or property rather than actual people, he'd burn himself at the stake.

He'd grown up, so why was it so hard for Nawaki to do the same? The world couldn't endlessly allow for Nawaki to live in a bubble. Sooner or later, he'd have to pull his weight the same way everyone else did. Fugaku would be more than glad to help him turn into someone worthy of respect in his own right, provided Nawaki wanted it.

As he walked along, paying heed to the icy patches on the sidewalks, Fugaku spotted once again that lovely, beautiful house Nawaki called home. The lights were on and he could see his teammate's silhouette in one of the windows.

Being Nawaki's teammate for a few months did nothing to alleviate his hesitation once he made it to the doorway. He never felt like a friend to this clan, especially not tonight. ' _What do you even want me to tell him, anyway?_ _ **Sorry I beat you to a pulp, but you were acting like a jackass?**_ _Right. Like that will work.'_

As he pondered what to say, the door opened and a pair of chocolate brown eyes stared him down. "What do you want?" Tsunade wasn't terribly fond of him, but she wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy toward any of her brother's little friends.

"I'm here to–"

"Nawaki!" Tsunade yelled, deciding she didn't have to stay long enough to hear this out. "It's Fugaku."

Normally, Nawaki's feet thundered down the steps loud enough for Fugaku to hear him from outside. This time, he heard nothing but the creaking of the stairs as Nawaki cautiously made his way to the door. In the light, he could see how much damage he'd actually caused the other boy and grimaced. "Nawaki, can we–"

Nawaki thumped Fugaku's shoulder and gave him a smirk. "Sorry I've been an inconsiderate butthead. I was just so excited to be on a team with you, you know? And then it ended up being awkward and I didn't know how to keep up and…"

At least he was trying to apologize and at least this meant Fugaku didn't have to go first. A lot of that pent-up resentment was unleashed earlier that night. Now most of what he felt was frustration and guilt. This time, he'd offer his friend a weak smile. "I'm sorry, too," he confessed. "I shouldn't have lost my temper on you like that."

"You were _right_ , though. I kept throwing your name around with mine because it made me feel like a big shot. I didn't stop to think about what I was doing and…look, I'm really, really sorry. It won't happen again. Just don't stay mad at me."

"Grow up already," Fugaku growled, but he already felt better. "Come on…let's go outside. We'll talk about it."

…

Somewhere in the conversation, the apologies and confessions degraded into mutually deciding the two of them shared a common enemy and this enemy's house could use a few eggs on it before the night was over. Nawaki stole a whole carton from his refrigerator and handed them over to Fugaku. "I'm more likely to fall over, so…"

It actually felt good to pour his heart out to someone and be heard. Perhaps Nawaki didn't understand all of it, but he tried his best. Conversely, Nawaki had known for years that he had an open heart and open ear in him. Tonight was the night Fugaku vowed never to let his rage build in such a way again. He would tell his friend how he felt, be honest with him, and they would both be spared a repeat performance of that night.

Despite how much he wanted Nawaki to mature, even he had to admit it felt nice to engage in the occasional childish prank. Normally, that was what Sanjo was for, but Sanjo had enough on his plate with his mother expecting that new baby any day now.

"I can kind of see where Mikuro was coming from this time." It wasn't a normal thing. Typically, all Fugaku wanted to do was be anywhere Mikuro _wasn't_ , but he felt some sympathy for him this time around. "What you said was kind of cruel."

"He threw tea at me and scalded you. How's your stomach feel, anyway?"

"Like it wishes it were your face." Nawaki scowled at him and (true to his word) began to slip and stumble on the rime. Fugaku caught him. "It's alright. I've got you."

They lost one egg, but it wasn't the end of the world. They had more.

"Look, if you're having second thoughts, now's the last chance to turn away. That's his house at the end of the street."

What was it with finding out virtually everyone else he hung out with had far more awesome houses than he did? Then again, what did he expect? Mikuro's father was one of the most beloved artists in the village. People probably paid small fortunes for his commissioned work. " _Painting_ bought that? They lied to us, Nawaki. There's no money in being shinobi. We should've gone to _art school._ "

In some ways, it reminded him of Kaede's house. That fancy, restricted estate belonged to an entire line within the clan. Rumor was that family's patriarch, an old relic of the founding days, still lived there; but Fugaku had yet to see Uchiha "Son of a Thousand Fires" Tenjin for himself. What's more, his father didn't want him sneaking around that house terribly much.

 _The style was similar_ , though. That house could be its twin. Maybe Shimura Zocho hired the same architect. That or he bought this home from some first generation hotshot who fell on hard times. There was no telling. He'd never met this man for more than a couple of seconds.

"Why…why would we chicken out now?" Someone with that much affluence could bury them. Plus, how would this look? "You better not tell anyone this was my idea. It was _yours._ "

"Does that mean you aren't gonna do it?" Nawaki squeaked and clung to his friend. "I'll do it with you if you throw the first one. Come on. This is _Mikuro_. If anyone deserves it–"

"I'm not _arguing_ that, but…" He was having second thoughts. "Why did we think this was a good idea? Even if you _do_ take the blame for this one, as you _should_ , they're gonna assume…they'll…" Fugaku nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard something open. A door, perhaps? No!

A window!

From the side of that large and illustrious home, a tall and willowy woman's silhouette made itself visible. She stuck one long and limber leg out of a window and then the next. She kicked her high heels to the ground, landing in the snow. "Are you seeing this, too?" Nawaki whispered, only for Fugaku to stick a hand over his mouth.

The woman made her way entirely out, placed her knees on the slanted roof, and eased her head back in the window one more time for a goodbye kiss. Then she pounced, landing in the snow like a well-trained acrobat. Once the shoes were on, Fugaku dragged Nawaki behind a nearby wall, wanting to be hidden.

And it was for the best, considering the woman he saw leaving Zocho's estate like some love-struck teenage girl was none other than _Naho_.


	15. Playing Pandora

"Should I tell Kaede about what we saw last night?" Fugaku grimaced even more that morning when he saw how black and blue poor Nawaki was from their fight. At least Nawaki didn't hold it against him. They'd made amends already and were right as rain with one another again. "That was her mother."

Nawaki scrunched up his face and let loose a nervous laugh. "Probably not. You wanna make an enemy out of your auntie? If so, that's a sure fire way to do it."

And sure _fire_ was an understatement. Naho had one of the hottest fireballs in the clan: one that despite countless hours of training, Fugaku never managed to replicate. As much as he wished he could do what Naho did, he didn't want it badly enough to ask her to train him. That would only sour his relationship with his cousin even more.

This, though…this was certainly a problem. Internally, he wondered if at least his mother needed to know about it. Naho was her best friend, and every last bit of this seemed like a bad idea on her part. Besides, wasn't Shimura Zocho old enough to be her father? She—

"Let's just meet up with Mitsumi-chan and see what our mission is for today."

"I have no objection to that."

Already, he could hear his friend bickering and grumbling that he didn't want to accept another lame D-Rank. "Don't be in such a rush to do the dangerous stuff, Nawaki. We don't even have a permanent jōnin instructor." The village was pulling all their best fighters together to protect and defend in this war. Few could be spared to train the children. "D-Ranks are the best way to make sure we work together as a team."

"But we already do that! And the village is–"

"Going to be fine. Alright? We'll start accepting C-Ranks once everyone on the team is ready."

"That's easy for you to say, Fugaku. You're a chūnin. Neither Mitsumi-chan or myself are…" Nawaki quieted down when Fugaku waved a hand dismissively at his words. He trotted a little faster, scooting next to his teammate.

"Until then, let's just try to enjoy this and consider it a chance to build on our teamwork." In short, Fugaku hoped they could be kids for at least a while longer before all hell broke loose. "Shinohara already reported for duty, so she'll meet us at the rally point and tell us what we're doing."

It was a cold, overcast day with a misty drizzle trickling down on the village streets. The naked trees outstretched their winter-bare arms and created shadows every time enough light trickled in to merit one. The street lights remained on due to dim daybreak and a thin blanket of half-melted snow littered the ground, making it way too easy to slip and slide.

And there was Mitsumi in her daffodil yellow snow coat and matching shoes. She merrily waved at her teammates and held up a piece of paper. "Did you two make up?" she asked, a hint of hesitation in her voice as she squeezed out a smile. "Because I don't want to deal with any stupid boy drama while we–"

"We're fine!" As if to prove this, Nawaki wrapped an arm across Fugaku's shoulders, pulling him close enough to knock him slightly off balance. "Right?" Fugaku nodded and then gave Nawaki a playful shove. Both boys laughed a bit at that and Mitsumi released a small sigh of relief. "So what are we doing, anyway?"

…

"What's _in_ it?" They spent the last ten minutes simply staring at what they picked up at the village border. This package was to be delivered to the reclusive, elderly head of the Yamanaka Clan. The young trio were given express instructions to be gentle with the box and not to open it. The ominous _he'll know if you do_ that the chūnin at the north gate threw their way did nothing to dispel their curiosity.

Nawaki and Mitsumi kept squinting at the package. Mitsumi would occasionally fumble with her coke bottle glasses and try to get a peek inside. Nawaki kept fidgeting with his hands. Every once in a while, he'd reach for the box. His fingers wriggled, itching to undo the tape, but then he chickened out.

Fugaku had seen enough. "It doesn't matter what's inside the damn box. It isn't ours." Quickly, Fugaku realized his attempt to convince his teammates to simply deliver this thing left them more entranced by the mysterious package. "If you open it, then what?"

"Then we know what's inside!" Nawaki paused after that, staring at the precious cargo in his hands. "But then Osamu-sama will _know_. And we'll lose the trust of the Yamanaka Clan. And they won't pay for any more delivery missions. And word could get out that we can't even follow a few basic rules. And…okay. I get the point." But he fidgeted all over. "But there's no harm in trying to figure out what it is, right?"

"Maybe it's some sort of exotic gift from an old friend," Mitsumi proposed. "Osamu-sama's been the head of the Yamanaka Clan since the village was first founded. He's old, but…" She shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe he still has friends outside the village."

Fugaku had his own suspicions as to what could be in the box. Every last speculation came from what he knew about the Yamanaka Clan. As an heir apparent and future clan head, he was expected to learn at least the bare basics on other clan cultures and history. That included the Yamanaka Clan.

That family possessed a terrifyingly invasive skill set: telepathy, astral projection, mind reading, possession, and hypnosis. They were master interrogators and could drive people insane with little to no effort, not to mention force their will onto others to force their victims to do their bidding. As infamous as some of the other families were, this was one family that Fugaku personally felt a bit of fear toward.

 ** _At least they're friendly_** , his mother tended to say. But how did he know that for sure? The closest Yamanaka child to his age was Inoichi and that kid was a year younger than Mikoto. And the one he knew the best was Hideaki: Sanjo's best friend and former teammate. Still, that didn't mean he knew him well. He mostly knew Hideaki as _Sanjo's friend_.

But even though he'd never met Osamu, he'd heard all kinds of scary rumors and urban legends about the old man.

Mitsumi was correct. Osamu had been a clan head since the Yamanaka Clan first joined Konoha. When that happened, Osamu was barely fifteen. He'd been a bright-eyed boy who saw the village as an opportunity to secure his small clan and align themselves with some of the most formidable competition in the geographic area. He ensured their security and later on assisted in coordinating with the Nara and Akimichi Clans to set up citizenship as well. The Akimichi went on to become a noble clan. The Yamanaka did not.

That all sounded nice and well, but then things inevitably took darker turns. Those who trusted the Yamanaka Clan insisted that Osamu was a friendly, loving man who was very much in tune with the feelings and emotions of his comrades. Those who _didn't_ trust that family accused him of prying into brains without permission, digging up whatever dirt he could to better cement the permanence of his clan's roots to this village.

Rumor had it he dug up so much dirt on three or four Hokage candidates that their clans would never be considered eligible for such positions ever again. The man was a gifted blackmailer and interrogator, using his kekkei genkai to twist arms into declaring one of the loveliest parts of the village as his family's home.

Osamu was also the first appointed head of Torture & Interrogation. And although he was on the verge of retirement, he still reported for work three out of seven days a week. Almost every major person in Torture & Interrogation carried some sort of Yamanaka blood. So despite Kazusa's jokes about them fortunately being _friendly_ , she still worried that these people were secret skull-scrapers, digging into the minds of everyone they passed.

In short, Fugaku had his suspicions in regard to the contents of the box. When Nawaki slipped on the ice and dropped it, a slightly soft _thunk_ came from inside.

"You klutz!" Mitsumi called out, wobbling her way toward her teammate. She lightly thumped the back of the Senju boy's head and took the box out of his hands. "Keep a closer eye on where you're stepping. You could've ruined it."

"I couldn't see the ice, okay? It's invisible." He held out his hands for the box. Mitsumi shook her head. "Aw, come on. Why not?"

"You already dropped it once," she snapped. "And it's not that heavy. I've got this."

"M-Mitsumi-chan…?" Nawaki's eyes were big and round as he pointed his finger at the bottom of the package. It had turned a wet, deep shade of red and appeared to be dripping. "Is that… _oh god_. Please tell me this was a pie or something."

Mitsumi lifted the box a bit higher so she could see what the big fuss was. She immediately regretted her choice and felt herself turning a tad green. Quickly, she handed the box over to Fugaku and dry heaved in the corner. "That didn't smell like—"

"Who in their right mind would pay for a genin squad to deliver a pie from the border?" Fugaku growled. "I think I know what it is." And he was simultaneously terrified and disgusted. Osamu was famous for one other thing: posthumous memory acquisition. This man could rip memories out of dead bodies, provided the brain hadn't rotted.

"Oh god." Nawaki shivered all over, reaching for a kunai. His eyes were wide in terror. "I have to know. I just…I _have_ to!" He made a few steps closer, armed and ready to cut the tape, but Mitsumi stopped him.

"Don't do it," she warned him. "I don't think any of us are prepared to see what we're pretty sure is inside. Do you really wanna see body parts?" He dropped that kunai and continued walking, occasionally staring nervously at the box.

At last, they made it to their destination. Few parts of the village were more beautiful than the tiny neighborhood the Yamanaka head chose to call home, especially in the early spring. Greenhouse flowers, fruits, and vegetables of all kinds grew around every corner, provided they stayed within their glass confines. In the winter, it still held its own kind of beauty. Herbs dried in windows, pressed flowers and beautiful paintings were on display.

Despite his age, Osamu was a childless bachelor with no listed heir. By those means, he would choose an apprentice to inevitably take command on the day of his death or when he no longer trusted his powerful brain to act in the best interest of the family. By no means did this mean the clan left him to his own devices. A handful of them took turns checking in with the old man, running his errands and keeping his home in good shape.

The Yamanaka clan crest waved proudly in black on a lilac banner outside the geriatric leader's estate. "It's so beautiful," Mitsumi admitted, noticing that some strange winter flower grew in the bushes by the front door. "I don't know anyone from this clan, but–"

"I only know one of them, and not that well," Fugaku admitted. "I know what they can do, though, and…" He turned toward his teammates, cringing when he felt something drip on his shoes.

Nawaki took a deep breath, tried his best to hide how nervous he was, and moved to ring the doorbell. The door opened a split second before he touched the button and he yelped in surprise.

An old man in a wheelchair stood before them. His hair, once the color of sunshine, had since turned white as winter snow. Although the top of it had thinned out immensely over the years, he still kept it long and tied back into a ponytail reaching all the way down to his seated rear. His steely gray eyes were hidden behind a pair of tinted glasses.

The lenses were rosy in color and almost whimsically cheery, but that did nothing to dispel the slight revulsion Fugaku felt when he saw all the burn scars on the left side of this man's face. One eye was so pale from a cataract that he could barely see anything but white. The skin was tight and taut, as if he'd had half a lifetime to grow fresh flesh over what surely had been a traumatic injury when it first occurred. As an Uchiha, Fugaku knew a burn scar on sight and those were clearly–

"Are you youngsters just gonna stare, or can I have my package?" His tone was grandfatherly, but Fugaku wasn't fooled. For once, he couldn't bring himself to say anything polite and therefore anything at all. He felt frozen in place, wondering if this old fellow was prying through his brain at that exact moment. "Come now. This old dog's too old to bite you. There's nothing to fear."

Nawaki took the package from Fugaku's frozen hands and placed it on Osamu's lap. The man groaned a bit when he realized how wet the bottom of the cardboard was. "Is it okay to ask what's inside?" he whispered in Osamu's ear. "I don't wanna offend or anything, but I kinda sorta really wanna know. Is that…is that okay?"

Osamu laughed until he wheezed. "Precious intelligence," he admitted. "You may have provided me with enough valuable information to help us win the next battle in this awful war."

"So it _was_ a severed head?" Fugaku was horrified with himself for being such a child over this, showing this much fear in front of somebody who was a valued elder of the village. He was an heir apparent, damn it. What if–

"Awfully blunt little thing, aren't you?" Osamu rolled his eyes, chuckling as he manually wheeled himself back inside his house. Upon closer observation, it was slightly unnerving how thick and muscular his arms were: like two scarred, tattooed-up tree trunks. "There's about four or five in there. Kumogakure shinobi, I believe." The door remained open. "So, did you children want me to treat you to tea and cookies for a job well done or…?" They were already running away. "…oh. Oh, okay…"


	16. Marooned

No one liked a braggart. Time and again, Sarani told Fugaku this in an attempt to instill some humility in his son. And he was right; not a single one of the children on this team enjoyed the constant puffery coming out of their temporary captain.

The man never gave his real name since he was ex-ANBU, but he insisted his temporary team refer to him as _Hayabusa_. They instead opted for _that asshole_ whenever he wasn't paying attention to their whispers among themselves.

In celebration of Nawaki's eleventh birthday, the Third Hokage permitted the team to take their first C-Rank mission together. It was a big deal for Nawaki and Mitsumi, but Fugaku had already taken a couple of C-Ranks (and even one B-Rank) with his parents since he became a chūnin. The adults in his clan made him feel safe, as though he could even sign on board for an A-Rank and leave without so much as a scratch. Hayabusa, despite being a tokubetsu jōnin, failed to instill such a sense of security.

Such were Fugaku's thoughts as he washed his hands in a foreign public bathroom.

This mission at least took them outside of Konoha for the first time in several weeks. They had accepted a mission in Koyamagakure: a tiny trade town in the Land of Moors that made the transition into becoming a shinobi village only one generation ago. According to Fugaku's Bingo Book, the transition effort was backed by one affluent, solitary shinobi clan as the sole founders.

Fugaku had to admit it was a pretty land. Some kind of festival was happening in the foggy heather. Wherever he turned, he saw crimson fish-shaped lanterns, streets decorated with red banners and dim lights, and some of the prettiest people he'd ever seen. They danced and laughed through the streets as the music played.

' _They have to be a rich land if they can do this while a global war is going on,'_ he thought. ' _Either that or they don't have their priorities in order. They're neighbors to three major nations. They're sure to get traffic from the battles, right? Or will this place be spared?_ '

Somewhere in all this mess, an undercover ANBU operative (who more than likely took this assignment as an excuse to party) would meet with their team and pass along an encrypted message for them to take back home. From _there_ , Mitsumi could do her thing and crack the code.

She did it so well, too! Lately, he'd been impressed by leaps and bounds on how much progress his team made. Nawaki still had yet to master his grandfather's _Mokuton_ moves, but he kept trying and never lost hope.

Their enthusiasm was contagious. Mitsumi nerded out over codes and puzzles, Nawaki focused all his attention on perfecting bigger and stronger jutsu, and Fugaku's ambitions went toward practicing more of a leadership role. The other two didn't see him as bossy, thank the gods. They knew where it came from and went along with it.

This mission wouldn't be the most exciting thing in the world, but at least they had a chance to explore and–

"…you've gotta be kidding me…"

No matter where he looked, whichever direction, his teammates and their temporary jōnin leader were nowhere to be found. He was stuck on his own: far away from any sort of supervision or direction.

…

"I'm sure your mother told you all about me, Nawaki-kun," Hayabusa bragged, pumping a fist on his flak vest. "I was a great hero in the First Great Shinobi War and _that's_ why I wanted to offer my protection to the honorable grandson and the Uchiha heir apparent."

" _And_ me," Mitsumi hissed sarcastically, rolling her eyes as soon as the masked man said _oh. Right. You, too, Shinohara-chan_. "…asshole." Nawaki patted her on the shoulder and she groaned even more. "Are you going to spaz out if I suggest we ditch him?"

"Just because he hurt your feelings? There might be enemy ninjas in this town! Did you even think about that?"

Nawaki wasn't as sure of his skills as he used to be. At least, he didn't think he had it in him to take down a foreign chūnin yet. "Do you think Fugaku could act as captain for this? I mean, he's a chūnin. Isn't the whole point of being one to be prepared to act as a squad leader?"

His brow furrowed as he continued to look around. As his brain continued to contemplate the thought of what it would be like to have Fugaku take lead (and there were huge pros and cons to that), it finally dawned on the Senju boy that his friend wasn't with them. "Hey, uh…Mitsumi-chan? Where's Fugaku?"

…

' _I told them I had to do more than pee. I can't believe they left me behind!'_

As annoyed as he was, Fugaku recognized there were far worse towns to be stranded in than this one. At least Koyamagakure didn't seem all that dangerous. They weren't listed as an enemy village, and the Land of Moors wasn't all that far from the Land of Fire.

However, a few other problems came to mind. Nawaki, Mitsumi, and Hayabusa wouldn't be at the rendezvous point with their contact until sunset. It was barely noon.

 _'…and Koyamagakure isn't exactly our ally, either. I don't know anyone who lives here. And I can't draw attention to the rest of the team because we're going to talk to a spy. If we blow the spy's cover, what then?_ '

And most annoying of all: Koyamagakure had its own currency.

' _I can't appear to be lost. I have to navigate my way around, communicate, and try to find the rally point around the right time.'_ Until then, perhaps he could soak in the atmosphere, get a feel for what this place was really like, and relax.

Finding a bench, he chose to open up his travel kit and see what was still available. There was enough Koyama money to play a few of the festival games, buy a meager lunch, and (worst case scenario) rent a cheap room someplace for the evening. The ceramic shuriken set his mother bought him for his birthday was neatly packed in there, right alongside a first aid kit and his Bingo Book.

' _I'll be fine,'_ he reassured himself.

After all _,_ if any of them were going to get lost in a foreign land, at least it happened to him. In fact, thinking about what Nawaki would have done had he been left behind made him chuckle a bit. ' _He'd be screwed.'_

 _…_

"What are we gonna do?! We're screwed if Hayabusa-taichou finds out!" Nawaki's fingers were twisted so tightly in his hair that Mitsumi winced.

"Stop that!" she snapped, swatting at the boy's hand. "You're gonna leave a bald spot behind if you keep pulling on it like that!"

Nawaki stopped pulling on his hair, but his eyes were big wet pools of guilt. "I can't believe we left him behind. He'll be so mad _…"_

Mitsumi placed her hand on her hip, tilting it a bit to the side as she huffed. That little gesture was one she'd picked up from spending too much time with Kazusa-san, but she couldn't help it. Fugaku's mother was slowly but surely turning into Mitsumi's idol. "Fugaku-kun's resourceful. I'm sure he'll be fine. Things could be a lot worse."

"How?! We lost him!" Nawaki's eyes were glistening. "He could be anywhere! And if Hayabusa-taichou notices–"

"If Hayabusa-taichou notices _what_?" Both kids jumped in surprise when the masked man made his presence known again. "Wait…oh _shit_. Where's Fugaku-kun?"

"O-oh, him?" Nawaki let loose a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "We, uh…we lost him. He's _gone_."

Hayabusa dropped his kunai in shock and let loose a squeaky noise most un-befitting of a man in his position. There was no point in coming back to Konoha without that boy. If he tried, he knew full well the Uchiha Clan matriarch would disembowel him.

And he'd been present for the First Great War. He knew full well Kazusa wouldn't need any tools to do that. Her hands were sufficient enough.

The two genin watched as Hayabusa paced back and forth, muttering things under his breath.

"Hey…hey…just calm down, okay?" Mitsumi pleaded. "Fugaku-kun probably just got separated from the group. He knows where we're going. Just–"

"How stupid are you?! You don't know what kind of people live there!"

…

"You're really good at the goldfish game, aren't you?"

Fugaku nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't expected anyone to talk to him, considering every last person in this village was a stranger. He'd been wrong. A tawny-eyed girl chose to sit beside him on the bench. Her auburn hair was pulled tightly into a high-rise ponytail. A couple of large flowers were stuck in there, matching the brocade of her yukata.

"I guess?" He'd caught two already. "I fish a lot at home, so…"

The girl chuckled, scooted closer, and shook her head. She had to be wearing some kind of perfume, because she smelled slightly spicy: like a white peppercorn or clove. "I like your accent. You're from the Fire Country, aren't you?"

Great. So he didn't mask it after all.

"Did you come all this way for our Red Sun Festival? It's our biggest tourist attraction."

"You live here?" He already knew the answer to that. This girl had the telltale delicate features of Koyamagakure's one and only clan: the Akane. "Is it nice?"

"Oh, _definitely_." She gestured toward the main street, smiling broadly as red streamers flew in the wind. "We're a trading hub, so people from our nine neighboring countries pass through here all the time. They always bring nice things with them…except _those guys_." The girl scowled and pointed toward an unpleasant-looking group.

Honestly, _unpleasant_ didn't even begin to describe how Fugaku felt when he watched those people. A large, muscular she-bear with earthy skin dragged a thin, fragile-looking woman out of a vendor booth by her hair. The smaller woman (another obvious Akane) clung to the stall for dear life, kicking and yelling. It didn't get her very far. The bigger woman had a crew of equally nasty-looking henchmen with her.

"We paid!" the Akane woman yelped as she felt a pair of strong hands rip the back of her yukata. Her complexion was flawless, but Fugaku could easily make out the notches of her backbone and the grooves of her ribs. Pretty as she was, she was gaunt: far too thin. "Why can't you just leave us alone!?"

Fugaku felt his heart pumping in rage at what he saw. The more he paid attention, every last vendor had the same pale freckled skin, tawny eyes, auburn hair, and delicate, doll-like features. Every last one of them looked terrified, too. Why hadn't he paid attention earlier?

"What's going on?" he whispered.

"That's the Mugen tribe," the Akane girl growled. "They show up every time we have a festival, just to harass us." It went beyond that, but she was too young to understand. "Then we have to _pay_ to make them go away. It's…" He could feel her shaking right next to him and he couldn't quite figure out the source for it: fear, hate, or rage. Maybe a combination?

"Why don't you fight back?" To Fugaku, that felt like the only sensible means of making the problem disappear, but then he saw what happened next.

The Akane woman with the torn yukata launched herself at the Mugen woman. A disorienting peppery smell filled the air and made his eyes water and his skin crawl. That's when he noticed something like vapor leaving the woman's skin. ' _Is that what they do?'_

The Mugen woman stood there for a moment, breathing it in, and only proceeded to get angrier, beating her opponent with a single punch to the gut. The Akane was winded, wheezing and sputtering between her groans as this horrid group dragged her away into the shadows.

Something crunched, and then Fugaku heard a gurgle. After that, the alley turned silent. The Mugen woman walked out, but the Akane woman didn't.

" _That's_ why. They're too strong."

…

That scene bothered him the whole way back to the rally point. Although he didn't exactly blend in, he didn't betray where he was from, either. Fugaku initially thought this pretty place couldn't possibly have anything wrong with it, but he was sadly mistaken.

Koyamagakure was a beautiful façade: a failed social experiment.

He'd read a book about time travel once. In it, a man ventured to a distant future where humanity evolved into two separate species: a sweet, delicate and innocent race incapable of doing anything for themselves, and the horrific monsters that tended to their every need because the pretty things were their glorified livestock. When the time came to eat, they'd come out of the shadows, drag a defenseless creature off, and that was it. No fight, no revolt, no nothing: just an instinctual fear of the dark because bad things always happened in the dark.

While he was under no delusion that the Akane Clan were truly helpless—they wouldn't have lasted as a shinobi clan for this long, were that the case—the brutish Mugen greatly outmatched them in strength.

Chigusa, the girl he met at the goldfish booth, ended up playing tour guide for the rest of the afternoon and he hardly minded. She bought him lunch, played a few games with him, and tried her best to keep a good face in light of a bad situation. It was like she'd grown up here long enough to know denial was the only way to survive.

' _A village like this can't thrive for long,'_ he realized. ' _It's a glorified trade town that happens to house a shinobi clan.'_ That would naturally attract brigands, bounty hunters, thieves, and other unwelcome persons who carried a genetic advantage against the Akane.

He couldn't get all those faces out of his head. The burnt out, despondent expression in the Akane adults' eyes, the way they'd all instinctively turn their heads in the opposite direction if one of their own screamed in fright…

' _If okaa-san thinks our clan has it bad, she's sadly mistaken. This place is a–'_

"There you are!" Nawaki ran as fast as he could, ready to dive-bomb his friend into a hug. "Where on earth did you go?"


	17. Ogetsu

It bothered him the whole way home. Despite looking like a foggy paradise with lavish shops and some of the finest food Fugaku had eaten in years, Koyamagakure proved to be nothing more than a pretty lie and an unwanted lesson in superficiality. Right beneath its gilded aesthetic, utopia quickly turned to dystopia.

Once or twice, Fugaku heard his mother grunt to some of her lieutenants about pushing the clan to secede from the village so they could claim some tiny piece of land and create their own village. This most recent mission showed him the grim reality of what happened when a solitary clan founded a settlement and tried to live alone. Those with a skill set advantageous to overpowering them would come from elsewhere and ravage, pillage, and terrorize them into submission.

It only felt right to intervene. The Akane Clan were overly hospitable to foreigners, always trying their best to evaluate newcomers in an attempt to win over new allies. They wanted protection and that desperation played to Fugaku's naïve ego far too well.

He hadn't been alone, either. He'd talked this over with Nawaki and Mitsumi first before acting on what his heart wished to do. They _all_ wanted to be heroes—and if that meant offering to deliver a request for help notification back to Konoha, then so be it.

"They aren't our problem," Hayabusa grumbled under his breath, shaking his masked head as he stomped away from the children.

The whole way back to Konoha, Hayabusa swore up and down that he refused to _ever_ work with this team again. Fugaku got lost. Nawaki nearly blew their Koyamagakure hidden operative's cover. And Mitsumi–

He'd repeatedly demeaned and undermined that poor girl: calling her useless and suitable only for desk work. Mitsumi put on a stone face when Hayabusa was around, but she'd broken into tears the moment she assumed no one saw her. The boys were already plotting revenge.

"I mean it. They _aren't_ our problem. You kids are too young to know how the Akane Clan operates. They're manipulative, conniving, parasitic–"

"You're entitled to your opinion, Hayabusa-taichou," Fugaku snapped, making absolutely sure he didn't lose the letter. It truly was a cry for help: for _survival_. "And I'm entitled to mine. I won't be made to feel bad about my decision. Someone should have helped them a long time ago."

"Yeah! The Hokage would help!" Nawaki piped in as the group watched Hayabusa skulk away, shaking his head in disbelief at what just happened. "Sheesh. What's wrong with that guy?"

Mitsumi folded her arms, trying to make her sweater heat her cold body up even faster. Koyamagakure had been damp and cold. Somewhere down the line, the freckled girl caught a bug and couldn't stop coughing or shake the chills from her bones. "It'll be a shorter list if we write what _isn't_ wrong with him. Did we do the right thing, though? We jumped in there as a knee-jerk reaction to what Fugaku saw and…"

Nawaki took off his jacket and put it around his teammate before she sneezed again. Once inside, he'd buy her a hot drink, too. "A true hero never turns his back on those who need help, even if they don't come from the same clan or village or whatever."

Maybe it was an idealist's way of looking at things, but there was something calming about Nawaki's eternal optimism. Even Fugaku internally worried that maybe they got in over their heads in regard to what they witnessed in that tiny trade town. The mission was supposed to last four days and ended up lasting two weeks, thanks to the trio's decision to intervene and help the Akane Clan fight back.

"I think we should keep an eye on current events in Koyamagakure and make a judgment call later," Mitsumi offered. She knew why Fugaku wanted to help. He carried a strong sense of justice and the mere sight of seeing an oppressed clan was going to trigger a strong sympathy. She didn't know what it felt like, but she could at least follow his chain of thought and understand why he chose to take this course of action.

That didn't mean she fully agreed with the boys. She'd merely join along because they were the Three Musketeers and the last thing Shinohara Mitsumi wanted to do was break up the band. It wasn't fair to play favorites, but she did have one. Both boys knew she felt closer to Fugaku, mostly because they had a few months of teamwork behind their belt before Nawaki came along.

"Is that the letter? Are you going to give that to the village?"

It concerned her a bit when she noticed something else: _there were two letters_. What was the second one for? Before she could ask anything further, a trio of silhouettes caught her attention. When the clouds parted and more light flooded the area, she recognized the three immediately. So, too, did Fugaku.

He cringed, because he knew what was coming.

"Long time no see, unsung heroes of the Hidden Knolls!" Go figure Mikuro would say something sarcastic like that right off the bat. Fugaku scowled, trying his best to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "I heard you almost blew an ANBU operative's cover."

"Shut up, Mikuro. We saved a clan!" Nawaki shook a fist at Mikuro. "You're just jealous that the most _your_ team's managed to do is buy stupid art supplies for your dad!"

"Low blow, Nawaki-kun. Low blow!" There, standing alongside Mikuro, were his other two teammates. Fugaku was already aware that Inuzuka Neyuki belonged to that team, but now he saw their third party member was Kaede.

Freaking cousin _Kaede_.

"Why do you always have to give Mikuro-kun a hard time about his dad?"

' _His dad's giving your mom a hard time, Kaede,'_ Fugaku thought darkly. He could tell Nawaki was about to make a similar remark (probably about Kaede's mother giving Shimura Zocho a "low blow"), so he instinctively covered his friend's mouth. Urgh. Why was this so easy?

"Why are you here, Kaede?"

"We want to hear all about your great heroic fuck-up!" Mikuro insisted, putting a hand on Fugaku's shoulder and another on Nawaki. Somehow, Fugaku felt that Mikuro wasn't being fully honest, considering the slight hint of desperation he caught on the boy's face. "Don't we, Kaede?"

"Uh…"

' _Now I know for sure something's up. Neyuki's quiet and won't make direct eye contact. Kaede keeps looking in his direction, and so does Mikuro_. Fugaku also noticed the Inuzuka boy had something in his hands and kept fidgeting, attempting to make eye contact with Mitsumi. He'd never seen his friend look so guilty before.

"There's no reason to lie, guys. Whatever's going on–"

"I really need to talk to Mitsumi-chan," Neyuki blurted, giving her a pleading glance. "I just don't wanna do it in front of everyone because it's…come on. _Please?_ Give us a little privacy?" Mitsumi's brow furrowed at that, but she followed the Inuzuka boy.

"Whatever you have to say to Mitsumi-chan, you can say it in front of me and–" Nawaki stopped himself before he even finished. Maybe Mitsumi needed that privacy after all. "So, uh…did you _really_ want to hear about Koyamagakure or…?"

Mikuro shook his head. "I don't care, but…" He leaned in a bit closer and sighed. "Listen. While you guys were gone, something bad happened." Fugaku seldom heard any sort of empathy in the Shimura kid's voice, so Mikuro's softness didn't go unnoticed. Whatever transpired, it was a delicate situation. "We went on a mission for Mitsumi's dad and…"

Neither Mikuro nor Kaede were having an easy time of stating the problem. They kept tiptoeing around it. What Fugaku did pick up on, however, was how they both kept turning eyes toward Neyuki and the thing he carried in his arms. By the time he noticed Neyuki didn't bring his dog along, it was too late. Mitsumi shrieked, yanked the bundle out of Neyuki's arms, and started to run off. "Shinohara! Wait!"

"GOD DAMN YOU, NEYUKI!" she sobbed. "YOU AND YOUR GODDAMN DOG!" Mitsumi picked up momentum, running as fast as she could to get away from everyone, but she slipped, fell, and accidentally dropped what she'd taken from Neyuki.

All the other kids rushed to the crying girl's side, watching their balance. They loomed over Mitsumi, her own teammates wondering what on earth happened. Kaede squatted down, put her hands on the auburn girl's shoulders, and whispered something. "Let me take you home, Mitsumi-chan. He's sorry. We're _all_ sorry…"

…

Mitsumi took the day off the next morning and didn't want any visitors, _especially_ Neyuki. Everyone wanted to come by, offer their condolences, and try to cheer her up, but it wasn't working.

"How do you even respond to something like this?" Mikuro glanced down at the flowers he'd bought.

His father insisted that flowers were always a good bet for making a girl feel better. He'd chosen daffodils because Mitsumi's favorite color was sunshine yellow. "It isn't like they make a _My Whole Team is Sorry the Dumb Dog Killed Your Cat_ card. Neyuki's taking this pretty bad, too. He's put a muzzle on Ashimaru and hasn't brought him along for any missions all week. It's like he's _scared_ to."

"I don't have an answer for that." What's more, Fugaku had to break news about the dead cat to his mother.

Ogetsu was a rambunctious, playful calico kitten who followed Kazusa home from work one day and–as she did with every cat she met–the woman fell in love at first sight. That little cat found a new home with the Shinohara family when Fugaku and Sarani decided to relocate the vast majority of Kazusa's hoard.

Mitsumi even bonded with his mother over talking about Ogetsu. In a way, Fugaku felt that relationship was one Mitsumi secretly craved. With her own mother gone, she'd gradually been spending more time at his house for training and just to hang out. Some days, she'd even show up if he _wasn't_ there, just to talk to Kazusa. Ogetsu was the bridge, a shared connection between the bookworm kunoichi and the Uchiha Clan's leading lioness.

Hearing that the poor thing met a bad end and got torn to shreds by a friend's dog didn't make matters any easier.

"I want to do something to help Shinohara, too. I just don't think there's much more we can do aside from offering her a shoulder to cry on." Mikuro opened his mouth and Fugaku stopped him. "Not yours, though. Kaede might be the best bet." Why? Simple. Who could understand a girl's heart better than another girl?

Mikuro groaned, looking down at the flowers. "It figures the cat was hers. She lost her mother a few years ago. Now this."

"I'm a little surprised I'm seeing this side of you." It wasn't exactly a bad thing. "You really care about Shinohara, don't you?" Before Fugaku got an answer, the Shimura boy shoved the bouquet into his hands and quickly walked off.

…

Although Nawaki proposed having the group band together to surprise Mitsumi with a new kitten, the idea was quickly shot down by Fugaku. Animals, like people, weren't interchangeable.

Without Mitsumi ever knowing they coordinated it, everyone took turns stopping by to check up on her every few hours. Finally, that evening, it was the final turn and Fugaku didn't come alone. There, standing beside him and still in uniform, was his mother.

"She's worried that you'll blame her for this," he confessed. "And Neyuki's afraid someone might ask him to euthanize Ashimaru. I know you just got off work, but–"

Kazusa gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Your other friends are coming, too," she whispered, nudging him. "Look." And there they were, appearing out of the shadows in all directions. Tohru, Neyuki, Mikuro, Kaede, Nawaki: they each brought something as an offering of condolence and sympathy. Even Kazusa picked up a little gift on her way to the Shinohara home.

"Your friend is loved."

As everyone convened together, Fugaku worried that perhaps Mikuro's smart mouth (or Nawaki's loud one) would end up offending his mother. It didn't happen. Both boys showed their respects and everyone allowed her to lead. She let go of her child's hand and knocked on the door. "Shinohara-san? We're here to see your daughter." The door opened further and the group stepped inside.

Mitsumi's home was tiny and mostly filled with her father's working tools. They weren't wealthy and lost most of their income when her mother died in the line of duty. A weapons smith didn't make as much as a tokubetsu jōnin, not by a long shot. "You didn't have to come all this way. She's pretty upset."

Fugaku couldn't find his teammate at first, but neither could the others. Finally, from a window facing the tiny garden in the back, he found the girl lying down on the grass, placing some flowers over a freshly covered mound of dirt. Every last sob and choking whimper to come from his friend felt like a stab in the heart. He made a move to step outside, only for Kazusa to squeeze his shoulder.

"Tell the others to be quiet and wait," she whispered, making her way outside. Her hand slipped away and he watched as his mother, so tall and intimidating, moved with an empathetic grace he barely saw from her. Kazusa's unruly hair poked out at all angles, trying to break free from the tight braid she always began her day with. It swayed, releasing itself more and more with every step.

She sat down beside the girl and gently leaned over to pull Mitsumi into a one-armed hug. "She wouldn't want you to cry because she's gone."

"But I miss her so much. I _loved_ her and…" Mitsumi's entire voice broke, her face crumpling with grief. " _You gave her to me_. You didn't even _like_ me until you saw how she…how…"

Kazusa stroked Mitsumi's hair, petting her back delicately. "Sometimes, these things happen. We have no control over them. Just focus on all the good memories you two shared together and be glad that she was a part of your life, even if it was just for a short while."

By now, everyone was listening, all brought to silence. It didn't feel right to pry and here they did it, anyway.

"That little cat loved you, Mitsumi. You gave her more care and attention than I could. I'm _glad_ she found a new home with you."

Mitsumi wrapped both arms around Kazusa, sobbing into her chest.

"Is that her? Did you bury her?" The auburn girl nodded, refusing to let go. "Here…I have something." She reached in her jacket and pulled out a tiny _maneki neko_ figurine. "For our lucky girl."

"Huh? She wasn't lucky. She got _killed._ "

Fugaku got it, though. He saw what this was about. Not only did Ogetsu bear a strong resemblance to that figurine, but that playful little cat brought Mitsumi an older female role model to fill in some of the holes in her heart. All these people showed because they cared about her and would be there for both the good times and the bad.

"We're all lucky," he murmured, watching as the same words left Kazusa's mouth. "Because we have _you_."


	18. Preponderant

"It's too hard. I'll _never_ get it right."

Kaede's small, delicate fingers curled around a fist-sized rock, which she then hurled with all her strength into the lake. It hit the water, breaking the surface with an angry plop. Tears beaded up in her dark eyes, catching on her long lashes and turning her cheeks ruddy.

"Not with that attitude, you won't." Here he was, sacrificing his first free afternoon in three weeks to help his cousin out, and she already wanted to give up. Somewhere down the line, possibly years ago, Fugaku grew increasingly jaded in regard to Kaede's pity parties. "If you give up, you'll never get any better."

"Things come to you easy. You're smarter than I am."

"That's a load of crap. You just don't _want_ it enough."

Why was it that training with Kaede felt like a chore and felt like playing when he pulled Mi-chan aside to show her a move? Little Mikoto tried and tried and _tried_ until she tired herself out. Kaede—who was Fugaku's actual _peer_ —gave up by her third failed attempt.

"I wanted to do something nice for you, Kaede."

The girl wiped her flush face with her bubblegum pink sleeve. Fugaku heard a sniffle and cringed as soon as he saw the snail trail. Few noises disgusted him more than the sound of snot going back _up a_ nose. "Sorry."

Shit. He didn't want her to _apologize_.

"You saw me use that move on Nawaki when we had that stupid fight last week."

Last Thursday, he finally did what Nawaki begged him to do since they were in Academy together. Nawaki loved every second of the fight–until he twisted his ankle. The spar came to a screeching halt after that, and Fugaku helped his teammate limp all the way home. Tsunade chewed him out for it, but Nawaki couldn't hide the proud smile on his face. That fight was a landmark for him: proof that Fugaku finally saw him as a peer rather than the team's unwanted baggage.

"You acted like you really wanted to learn how to do it. What changed?"

Kaede swung her young and limber legs back and forth, letting her magenta-painted toes dip within the cold water. "I do." Her words sounded like a whisper. "But you aren't being fair. You _do_ pick up on things quicker than I do. You're like…"

' _Don't say it. If you freaking say it, I'm turning around and going home_ _ **right now**_ _.'_

Instead, Kaede glanced up at Fugaku and smiled meekly. "I take it back." She hadn't finished that statement. "There's no way she'd take time out of her schedule to help a hopeless case like–HEY!"

As much noise as the rock made, Kaede made more when she lost her balance and slipped on a thin patch of ice. She flailed her limbs every which way, trying to stabilize her lost balance, but it was too late. She stumbled, fell, and plunged into the icy-cold water beneath the dock. She shrieked, grabbed the dock with both her hands, and tried to pull herself back up.

When she slipped and had to start all over again, Fugaku felt a tinge of guilt and moved closer to help her. "Kaede, do you need any–"

She carried more strength in her arms than he realized. One strong yank was all it took to drag her cousin down with her. The water was cold enough to feel like needles all over his body. Fugaku wrapped his arms around Kaede and pulled her back toward the shore, but something had changed.

 _She smiled_.

…

Perhaps Kaede never had it in her to be a great and powerful kunoichi like Naho, but she didn't need that to be pleasant company. Fugaku knew his mother kept crossing her fingers that the two of them would fall in love, or at least be content enough to give such things a try in the future, but he was sure that love he felt for Kaede would never expand to anything beyond a brother's love for a sister.

"I hope you don't mind that I wanted to dry off in your house. Kazusa-sama and Sarani-sama won't be mad, will they?"

"So long as my father never finds out you dragged me into the lake, we're fine. He's really weird about large bodies of water."

Food, too. Sometimes Sarani bought too much food at the grocery store and packed the pantry with things he had no hope of consuming before it spoiled. Then he'd forget about it and buy more. Fugaku had learned from a young age to read expiration dates, because he'd had far too many encounters with stale crackers and moldy tea bags.

Everyone had their hang-ups, but Fugaku sometimes worried about his father. "He can't swim," he told his cousin.

Kaede laughed and rolled around on the floor, trying to warm herself up in front of the wood burning stove. "I really like your house. It feels more normal."

"That's right. Your family live with your grandfather and extended family, don't you?"

"Mmhmm."

Kaede and her parents lived with her two remaining uncles and her grandfather. From what Fugaku recalled, Kaede originally had _five_ uncles. Now only her Uncle Muraki and Uncle Akihiro remained, assuming he got their names right. That was one family in the clan Fugaku knew next to nothing about. They were very private people.

"I can still smell cat pee in a few places. Let me know if it starts to bother you."

"I don't smell it." Kaede curled up closer, nuzzling her dark waves up against him. "But my mom's gross mugwort incense? I smell _that_. Thanks for making me feel special today. You're sweet."

"Don't tell the others. I don't want your teammates calling me a softy." Kaede chuckled and Fugaku felt her back move. It felt nice: just curling up in front of the heat in his parents' bathrobes as their clothes dried. "You're a strange girl."

"Do you like me?"

She put him on the spot like this sometimes and he never appreciated it. Some days, he wanted to throw her in the lake. Other days, he wanted to be the one to give her a shoulder to cry on because he saw how much she needed it. "I _guess_ …? I care about you. I enjoy hanging out with you, but–"

"But…?" Dark eyes glanced back up at him and he saw some color flushing in her cheeks. He told himself that it was the heat from the stove, not something else.

It wouldn't be the end of the world if this went somewhere. If anything, his mother and Naho had pushed for this sort of bond between their children ever since they realized they'd have a son and daughter around the same time. His mother _wanted_ Kaede to be his choice because that would tie her line to Naho's and they could be grandmothers together someday in one shared line.

"I'm not your favorite, am I?"

How could he be honest with her without breaking her already fragile confidence? This girl stared at the whole world with longing in her eyes, craving to hear even one person whisper in her ear that she was their favorite.

' _I can't lie to you just to make you feel better. I have another favorite.'_

And he could never pursue that favorite. _Ever_. His favorite would never find out, either. It would ruin a perfectly good friendship, make things weird, and he'd never be able to live with the guilt. Nothing would come of it. Why pursue a person he could never have?

"I'm not _your_ favorite, Kaede. You hate me half the time."

She felt so small beside him. As they grew, that difference in size would only expand. He'd grow taller and stronger. Kaede probably had one minor growth spurt left to her and that would be it. She'd be small and pixie-like as an adult. Already, she felt delicate. "Hate and jealousy aren't the same. Sometimes, I get jealous and it makes me so _mad_ and…"

In the background, he heard his mother's laugh quickly accompanied by the familiar hoarse and tired tone of Kaede's mother. Although his ears weren't sharp enough to hear their conversation in any depth, he at least knew they were coming.

Fugaku nudged Kaede, trying to get her to move. When she didn't comply, he stood up anyway and made his way upstairs to change into something. By the time the two women made it inside the house, Fugaku made his way downstairs. "Oh. You're home. Welcome back."

Kazusa grinned at her son and proceeded to ruffle his hair in a way he simultaneously hated and secretly enjoyed. "No mission today, right?" Fugaku nodded. "So, was my boy lazy enough to take the day off or did he _train_?"

"He trained me," Kaede piped up. "We didn't get very far, but–"

"The hell are you wearing my bathrobe for?" Kazusa narrowed her eyes, giving that girl her scariest face…for all of three seconds. Then came the big grin and a hearty nudge to Fugaku's ribs. It hurt and he didn't appreciate it. They only fell in the lake, damn it. What was wrong with her? "Oh! Fugaku! One other thing!"

Dear gods. _What now_? Already, Fugaku felt that all too familiar pit of dread build in his stomach as he saw the way his mother's dark eyes turned toward her friend. "Your Naho oba-san thinks she can help you activate your sharingan. She's shown an interest in training you and–"

Kaede's eyes were wide in disbelief, mouth wide open. Her whole small body seemed to go slack as though these words sucked the life out of her. She never received invitations like this from her mother. _Never_.

"I'm not interested in training with her," Fugaku snapped, thinking that maybe he could salvage this somehow.

A mother should love her child first and foremost. She shouldn't be sneaking around in the dark to fool around with a man other than her husband, _especially_ outside of the clan. What made his aunt so damn special? Just because her fire burned brighter than average, her mother put her on a pedestal and–

"I think she's too busy getting her picture painted, among other things." Every chance he had to make a dig without damning Naho too bluntly, he wanted to take it. Didn't she see how starved for attention her own daughter was? If he could make her squirm some, feel some a little hesitation, then maybe it would all be worth it.

Instead, Naho touched his shoulder and dragged him outside. Already, he felt fingernails. So _sharp_. "Kazusa?"

"Hm?"

"I want a word with your son. _Alone_. Is that alright?" Of course Kazusa would give her this. Kazusa gave her everything in the world because it wasn't a secret to anyone who her favorite happened to be. Fugaku wanted his mother to tell this woman no for once, but she didn't. All she did was make her way to the bathroom to draw herself some water. She'd be in there for about an hour, taking a long and fancy bath.

His aunt was a complicated person. Fugaku understood that, just as much as he understood that this woman wasn't his mother's sister. This fondness she carried was far more uncomfortable. As he grew older, he even started to worry that perhaps his mother loved this woman more than she loved his father, perhaps even more than _him_ …

And now he was alone with her, staring up at her three-tomoe sharingan. "You know something," Naho rasped, smoke leaving her lips with every word. "What do you _want?_ "

"Your daughter." He hitched his breath. He didn't want Kaede. Rather, he'd paused before he finished what he had to say. "You need to spend time with _your daughter_ , Naho oba-san."

What was the big deal? Nobody had children unless they wanted them, right? And yet he remembered what he heard from Sanjo before…

 **"** **I've seen some bad parents in this clan over the years. Your parents hovered all over you because they were scared to death they'd fuck up and lose you. Naho, though? They couldn't even convince her to** ** _look_** **at Kaede for the first couple of weeks."**

"Do you hate her or something?" He had to ask it. Now that he had this woman all to himself without any eavesdroppers, he could unload every last frustration and confusion he felt. "I don't understand you at all. She's…"

"Do _you_ love her?" And yet he hesitated. Naho smirked, blowing more of that smoke from her cinnabar lips. "No one chooses who they love, Fugaku. It merely happens."

"Like you and Mikuro's dad?" There. He said it. It felt _good_ to say it, if only to see the stunned expression on her face. "I'm going to tell my mother about that. I saw you, and so did Nawaki. Stop asking to train me until you find time to train your own child first. I'm not even yours."

Before him stood a formidable woman even the present clan head cherished most, not that Fugaku could figure out why. And in that fleeting instant, he saw the same despondence that plagued Kaede's face spread across Naho's. He wasn't sure which scathing remark hit her with the lowest blow, but it didn't matter. He'd won.

Even in her eyes, he could tell he'd won.


	19. Fleeting and Finite

' _Fifteen years. Has it really been that long?_ '

Kazusa was typically very good with dates and anniversaries, but this anniversary always seemed to slip past her. Some things were best left unspoken, but she'd come to realize in alcohol-soft middle age that she made the wrong choice. She wasn't the only one to feel the consequences of her decision; the whole of her clan felt it.

' _My hesitation cost me some of my best men. If I tried a little harder to talk some sense into him, or if I'd placed more faith in his plan, then—_ '

"Good morning, Kazusa-taichou."

The remaining old guard and all the newer people held the proper respect for her, but her increasing paranoia left her wondering if maybe this was all lip service. Beneath that honorific— _taichou_ , as in _captain—_ what if more of them saw her as a Senju sympathizer…or worse? They may have seen her as a coward.

"Morning…" It wasn't a good one. This date _never_ fell on a good morning.

This year, it fell on a gloomy Sunday. With overcast early spring skies threatening to unleash a cold downpour at any given moment, her bones ached. Her hands and ankles in particular were sore and slightly inflamed. Willow bark helped, but she'd have to sacrifice her evening drink if she took that.

And today, she needed that drink and maybe five or six of its cousins.

"Where are we this morning?" She wasn't going to address it, but she clearly saw the way some of the older officers were acting. A miasma permeated the station. "Please tell me Kitaro and Nanami didn't screw up and let _another_ prisoner escape."

The Daruma Doll Man, an infamous dōjutsu thief, already escaped on their watch. They never did catch that son of a bitch a second time and there was no telling which rock he chose to hide under until the Konohagakure Military Police Force found a bigger bastard to chase.

"They're fine, taichou," Yashiro informed her. He'd certainly stepped up for the homicide squad over the past year, despite still being only a teenager. "It's actually a peaceful day." The whole village was peaceful today, but the tone wasn't one Kazusa wanted to hear.

 ** _'And you like peace at any cost. Don't you, taichou?_** _Surely that's what you wanna say to me, considering who your daddy was..._ '

Her ankles were killing her. After making her way into her office, Kazusa closed the door and locked it. She sat down on her chair, feeling it give a little under her weight. She hoisted her legs on her desk so she could at least alleviate some of the pain. Gravity could be a bitch, and it wasn't like she'd ever been a petite, dainty little thing.

She'd decorated this room over the years, placing pictures of her closest friends, her darling son, and her loving husband upon the walls. There were others, too. Fifteen years ago, she'd taken down pictures of the previous clan head.

…

 **"The hell are you doing!? Leave those up!"**

 **"Who do you think you're talking to, Setsuna?" He was treading dangerous ground with her. "The Nidaime may have assigned us as co-captains in this institution, but I'm still your clan head. I can place whatever photos I want on my wall."**

 **And if she wanted to place pictures of her present loves up there and hide all evidence of her sketchy past within the confines of a desk drawer, that was her prerogative. "I'm taking down anything that'd leave a bad smell in the village. You should do the same."**

 **She didn't want to fan the flames, not this time. Not after so many people died to put Senju Tobirama in the Hokage seat.**

 **She'd never admit to it in front of the clan, but Kazusa** ** _enjoyed_** **the police work and secretly loved her job. It wasn't what she initially thought she'd do with her life, but she'd kept her eyes out for open positions in Torture & Interrogation, anyway. This wasn't too far off the mark. **

**And maybe Tobirama was right; maybe they** ** _were_** **suitable for this line of work. But the angry man in her office didn't agree, nor did he wish to advertise any sort of endorsement for the new Hokage. If Kazusa wanted to continue to gain good face with her fellow Uchiha and be seen as a valid authority figure, she'd need to act as though the Konohagakure Military Police Force was a burden rather than a blessing: another hardship thrown upon the backs of the long-suffering Uchiha.**

 **She couldn't disagree more.**

 **"This is about nothing more than face," she informed him. "They'll look for evidence of dissension. Do you really want to be so** ** _brazen_** **about your feelings? Naho lost three brothers. Six of my key men don't have immediate family anymore. Well? Do your thoughts still hold up?"**

 **Setsuna's mouth was open, but Kazusa had yet to hear his words. She knew how he felt, how** ** _many_** **of them felt. Even Naka and Naori, her left and right hands, felt the same as Setsuna. They were just too respectful of Kazusa's position as their leader to act on it. Her word was law and they would abide by it. That was final.**

 **Kazusa's idea had been to instigate a police strike, just to bring to the Nidaime's attention how essential they were and that the Uchiha Clan felt as though old prejudices were being used to isolate them from the rest of the village. No other clan was being singled out anywhere near as much, even though the Yamanaka Clan were in part to blame for this mess.**

 **A nonviolent protest would go over better with the village. No one's lives would be at stake, and some of those old beliefs about the Uchiha being a clan of bloodthirsty warmongers could finally be laid to rest.**

 **Not for Setsuna, though.** ** _He_** **wanted a revolt.**

 **…**

The arthritis was a fairly new thing. Only a select few on the force knew about it. Any sign of weakness on Kazusa's part needed to be hidden. Leaders had to be invulnerable and stronger than all the rest. Why else would she tell her son such things if _she_ didn't believe it?

Her biggest dread was that he'd turn out exactly like her: insecure, short-tempered, and impulsive.

It didn't matter how nice of a face Kazusa put on in public; the whole clan knew she was overcompensating. She was cat-like: doing all she could to hide her sickness and pain until nothing could be done to salvage her. Every day, she exhausted herself, pouring everything into her work so they'd all see her as worthy.

But how worthy could a leader be if she didn't feel such things about herself? They may not have been mind-readers like the Yamanaka Clan, but her fellow Uchiha didn't even _have_ to be to read what was going on with her.

Fugaku saw her stagger home at night, reaching for something only adults should drink in the back of the fridge. He saw her flop down on the floor, breathe slowly, and reach half-heartedly toward his fat old cat so she could pet him.

Her son wasn't stupid. He had to know that normal people didn't sleep as much as Kazusa did and he'd inevitably realize the dark glasses weren't only an intimidation technique. They hid the big dark bags under her tired, anxious eyes.

' _It makes me wonder what would happen if Setsuna saw how his boy turned out. What if he'd been around long enough to see Yashiro on the force?'_

Her hands trembled as she massaged an ankle, her face grimacing because no one else was in here. The mask could come off.

...

 **"I don't understand why I keep having to repeat myself to you. The** ** _most_** **I'll agree to is a police strike. What you're proposing is suicide!"**

 **Didn't Setsuna recognize that, or was he so blind with anger that he chose to think only of the here and now?**

 **"A revolt will mean the village is right about us, Setsuna." No one got in her face as much as Setsuna did, and she hated him for it. He reminded her of the picture hidden in her desk.**

 **"Let them be right. This can't go on and I'm not the only person in the clan who feels this way. There's** ** _others_** **, Kazusa-taichou." With every name Setsuna uttered, Kazusa's nails dug deeper into her thigh.**

 **"They said nothing about it to me. Listen. Maybe it's advantageous for us to keep the force exclusive. Since we're the only ones operating in this position, it will leave all the more impact when the strike–"**

 **"We're not performing a strike. We're striking** ** _back_** **. Kazusa, I have already made up my mind, as have my men." Setsuna took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "We know you mean well. Your heart's in the right place and you're doing all you can to fill a role you never were suited for. You just…I feel I'm putting the needs of the clan above my own. A** ** _real_** **leader would do that."**

 **"You're implying I'm not. How dare–"**

 **"The Senju Clan bought your loyalty before. I'm a little younger than you, but I remember the cat."**

 **Bōfūu** **: her little storm cloud with the copper penny eyes. She'd loved that animal more than she loved most people** **. He had some nerve to bring him up.**

 **"I don't feel the clan is safe under the guidance of a leader like you."**

 **"Not unless I sign on board with a** ** _suicide mission_** **?!"**

 **"It won't be suicide if we all band together."**

 **Her entire body shook with rage. It didn't matter how mature or strong she wanted to delude these people into thinking she was. Sometimes, Kazusa's infernal temper got the best of her. She threw a kunai at her subordinate, eyes wide open in outrage. "You're going to get us all killed like a pack of mad dogs!"**

 **When the rage subsided a little more and Setsuna felt as though it were safe enough to speak again, he brushed himself off.**

 **Kazusa had hit him with the weapon, but not in a vital spot. He pulled it out, feeling the blood seep through his shirt. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. The point is I won't be on the Senju's leash anymore and neither will my son."**

 **...**

A grand total of eight men—many of whom were some of Kazusa's finest on the force—marched to their deaths. They blindly followed Setsuna because they hated their lot in life and wanted to make a difference.

' _You always thought I didn't act in the best interest of the clan, Setsuna. But I did.'_

The others wanted to talk about him. They wondered why his photograph wasn't among the faces of other fallen men and women who served the Konohagakure Military Police Force. The official reason Kazusa provided was that Setsuna hadn't died in the line of duty. In reality, she wanted to erase his memory.

And her best two lieutenants, Naka and Naori, would enforce that silence at all costs.

Kazusa wanted to spare Setsuna's son the truth and the shame of finding out his father was a traitor. Yashiro trained directly under her for years and activated his sharingan at the age of thirteen. If Kazusa had anything to say about it, he'd also never find out the clan head put a hit on his father in an attempt to silence the dissent.

He'd be a fine officer someday.

She got her peace, though: peace through death.


	20. Eminent Domain

"I know, right? How often do you hear that we're taking on a mission where we get to _destroy_ stuff!?"

Nawaki cackled in glee, keeping his right arm hooked to Fugaku's as they made his way toward the Uchiha boy's home. That evening, they were slated for a demolition D-Rank in the western sector. Some of the woods needed to be cleared to make room for another village expansion. The only request made by the construction team was that at least one of the shinobi on the team have a strong Katon release.

An Uchiha, in other words. There were other shinobi with powerful fire techniques, but "strong Katon release" was typically code for "we'd really appreciate having an Uchiha on the team."

"There's no way a mission like this can be boring. Wouldn't you agree, Mitsumi-chan?"

Mitsumi let her bag swing like a pendulum in her left hand. She hummed a chipper little tune under her breath and matched pace with the boys. Considering she was significantly taller than both Fugaku and Nawaki, that meant she'd have to take two steps for each three of theirs. "Mmhmm! My stop's coming up. I'll catch up with you two tomorrow. Bye!"

Fugaku had never seen his teammates get this excited over a D-Rank before, but it made him smile. "You know I'm the only one out of the three of us with a Katon, right?" He just wanted to make sure Nawaki didn't set his expectations too high. "This mission's mostly going to consist of me burning things and you two cleaning up the mess I make. You realize that, right?"

"So? It's an excuse to watch you _burn stuff!_ " Nawaki could barely contain his excitement. "Let me know if Mitsumi-chan or I need to bring anything to make stuff burn even hotter, okay?"

Fugaku paused to think about this. "I'll meet you guys at the construction site by sunset, okay? I have an idea."

…

"No."

Fugaku never expected his aunt to decline an opportunity to train him, much less _sneer_ at him. When she smiled, tiny streams of smoke wafted from between her cherry-red lips. Naho was showing off, but the effect was still pretty intimidating.

"What do you _mean_ no? You've been trying to get me to train with you for years!"

Naho's smile didn't go away. She didn't replace it with a stony face this time, which annoyed Fugaku even more. The way she glanced up at the ceiling, the way only the edges of her mouth showed teeth while her lips remained pursed in the center, and the way she kept her arms folded in front of her gave off every last indication that the clan heir's frustration amused her. She was having a joke at his expense.

' _It's_ b _ullshit like this that makes it really difficult to like you, oba-san.'_ For her smiles, he could glare. "Oh. I get it. You want me to beg? That's not happening. Grow up."

"That's mighty rich," Naho teased back, "coming from an eleven-year-old."

…

 **Maybe her older brother would catch her. Then again, maybe he wouldn't. Muraki's legs were longer and he picked up more momentum than she did, but Naho turned sharper corners with her tiny feet. "If you want it so badly, catch me!"**

 **"It's** ** _gunpowder_** **, you idiot!" Muraki huffed, losing his balance and hitting a wall in the process. Naho dropped one of the tiny pellets on the ground, watching it spark and crackle. She loved the smell, but burning wood had to be her favorite scent in the world. "Give them back before you blow yourself up!"**

 **She was the youngest child and only daughter of the clan's most infamous arsonist. Every last one of Uchiha Tenjin's children had that** ** _firebug_** **nature written deep into their blood. The heat gave her a rush. So did the scent, the bright sparks, and the fact that flames could even change colors under the proper conditions.**

 **"You can't blow yourself up with these little things."**

 **Her teenage brother staggered over, fumbling with his glasses. "If there's a way, I'm sure you'll find it. Now don't make me ask again." His hand was outstretched and covered in long-since-healed burns. "Those aren't toys."**

 **But she'd wanted to surprise Kazusa with them later. Somehow or another, she had the heir apparent duped into thinking she was some kind of ninjutsu prodigy. True, she was a clever little girl, but more of her fanfare and bravado came from basic chemistry than she'd want to openly admit.**

 **She was a tall, short-haired, androgynous twelve-year-old who couldn't get away with wearing her five brothers' hand-me-downs for much longer. "Come** ** _on_** **, nii-san. Can't you imagine the look on Kazusa-chan's face when she sees** ** _sparks_** **in my fireball?" Naho was here to entertain and keep that girl amazed. "You know she'll fall for it and think it's a jutsu."**

 **Muraki only had one arm, having lost one in a skirmish several years ago. He placed the arm to his hip and sighed, slowly shaking his head. His shoulder-length inky black hair flopped in all directions as he did so. From that angle, Naho couldn't see her brother's eyes. The light was in the way and reflected off his glasses.**

 **"I'm tired of playing around, little sister. On the count of three, you'll give me back my–"**

 **"Neverrrrr!" Naho cackled with delight, scampering off one more time, only to collide into a woman. She dropped the pellets, each one snapping and crackling as if to mock her clumsiness and lack of situational awareness. "Sorry! Sorry. Are you alright?" She offered her hand, quickly realizing this woman before her wasn't from her clan.**

 **Upon even closer observation, this gorgeous stranger hailed from the Senju clan and dressed in some of the prettiest clothes had Naho ever seen. "I'm fine, young man. I'm here to see your father and–what's with that face?"**

 **Muraki chuckled as he turned the corner to face the guest. "Toka-sama, that's my baby** ** _sister_** **. May I ask why you've come to talk to my father? Why not the clan head?"**

 **"** ** _That man_** **would send me away without even hearing what I have to say," or how much she'd be willing to pay. "I came here to see the Son of a Thousand Fires." Uchiha Tenjin: their father.**

 **"Naho will show you where he is."**

 **Of course Muraki would volunteer her to disturb their father. Tenjin was one of those quiet, hard-to-read people who possessed a natural talent for making others uneasy. A man like that could shake your hand, smile in your face, and give off no indication that you'd slighted him. You'd never know until it was too late: once everything and everyone you ever loved became kindling inside a** ** _big blue fireball_** **.**

 **Tenjin's sons obeyed him without questioning his orders. They were dutiful, respectful, and each one capable of producing great damage. Arson and contract sabotage was the family business and had been so even prior to Konoha's founding.**

 **Tenjin's daughter, however, was his little pet and the only person who could get away with doing virtually anything in his presence. She wasn't afraid of her father. She loved him fiercely and ate up the attention like flames on gunpowder.**

 **"Are you busy?" Naho called out, catching Tenjin outside feeding the koi in his private pond. "There's a lady here to see you."**

 **He could have been a handsome man, had he fewer scars. His jaw and the edges of his mouth carried burn scars, as did his hands. Both hands healed over, but the skin was so taut, slick, and pink that they felt like too-tight gloves. Naho sometimes worried certain hand signs would crack her father's skin and make his hands bleed. She'd** ** _seen_** **it before.**

 **And yet his features were lovely, rather delicate and defined. His long hair carried coiled curls, which he tied tightly back behind his head in a low-rise ponytail, save for a few stray pieces that refused to be tamed. Tenjin also had a mallen streak…though Kazusa irreverently called it "the skunk stripe" when Tenjin was out of ear shot.**

 **"Welcome to my estate," he greeted the woman, getting up so he could give her a proper bow of respect. "I see you've met my youngest." He ruffled her short hair. "Such a vivacious little thing. So full of energy. Naho."**

 **"Hm?"**

 **"Please put on some tea for Toka-sama while we talk shop." Judging from his tone, he knew what this was about. Naho did as she was told, but she wanted to eavesdrop. "To what do I owe this pleasure? I'm** ** _assuming_** **this is business?"**

 **"Naturally." The pretty brunette handed a scroll over. "You'll be paid handsomely for your work. We were granted some land to the north in the hopes of expanding the village. My cousin, the Hokage, tried to reason with the people living out there, but…" She shook her head. "No one likes handling eminent domain cases."**

 **"Nobody likes squatters, either," Tenjin murmured, opening the scroll. "Did you compensate these people?"**

 **"They're refusing to take it. They've been warned. We want you to intervene. After all…" Toka smiled at Tenjin and Naho cringed when she saw the woman's hand squeeze her father's thigh. "** ** _No one_** **can clear an area as fast as you can."**

 **…**

Naho's arms remained folded as she stared down at Fugaku. Flattery wouldn't get him anywhere. "I thought we were on ill terms." The teasing, _chiding_ inflection of her words hadn't gone unnoticed. She was mocking him.

"I'm only asking for your help because I have a forest clearing mission today."

"And now that my techniques are relevant to one of your missions, you're suddenly interested in them? How convenient."

"I didn't feel comfortable training with you because _you were ignoring your daughter_. The main reason I've been giving you a hard time is because…"

No. If she was going to act like this, he wasn't going to give in to her.

Naho shrugged, a hoarse chuckle coming from her throat. "I think it's sweet what you're doing, looking out for Kaede's feelings, but you've rejected my offers one too many times. Everything's so easy for you. One day, you tell your dear auntie you won't train with her. The next day, you change your mind and expect her to drop everything to accommodate you. It's not so easy this time. Why _should_ I teach you?"

…

 **"Because I'm your** ** _favorite_** **," she playfully cooed at her father as she tenderly squeezed his scarred hand. As soon as the Senju woman left, she was riddled with questions. Who was that woman? What did** ** _eminent domain_** **mean? What was a squatter?** ** _Could she come along for this mission?_** **"Because I want to be strong and respected,** ** _just like you_** **. Because–"**

 **Tenjin laughed roughly, stifling a cough. He gave her cheek a playful pat. "When you're older, perhaps. I don't want to train you on the Blue Phoenix techniques until I feel for certain the time is right. Now is not that time."**

 **Naho's face contorted into an expression of indignation and annoyance. "I have the** ** _sharingan_** **, you know. What else are you waiting on?" She only had one tomoe each, but at least she had it. "It's blue fire. I've seen you melt** ** _metal_** **with it! Muraki and Masubi and Akihiro and–"**

 **"You don't know what fuels those flames." Tenjin's brow was furrowed in mild concern.**

 **"They were all younger than me when they mastered it."**

 **"There wasn't a** ** _village_** **when they mastered it. It was necessary to speed up their progress, by whatever means necessary. You, my child? You don't have the capacity for this yet, Naho. Not** ** _yet_** **."**

 **…**

But Fugaku did. That was the problem. Fugaku _did_ and Naho knew it. She saw the way he glared at her, far from amused by her passive aggressive antics. In these moments, she saw so much of Kazusa in him that it hurt. The only problem was he wasn't anywhere near as gullible as his mother had been at that age. As a result, Naho wasn't able to captivate and mesmerize him. He couldn't be charmed.

And that was a problem.

' _I know you could produce these if I trained you, but I have concerns about how well you'd be able to control them.'_ The blue flames ran the risk of causing damage to the user. She knew this. Her two remaining older brothers knew this, too. So did the three dead ones.

"There's nothing wrong with what you can presently do." She had to backtrack before this got out of hand. "You were seven when you mastered the basic fireball. That was four years ago and you've improved by leaps and bounds."

"Yeah… _about that_." Fugaku glared. "I remember it differently, _oba-san_. I got it right, you told me I did a good job, and then you blew something bigger and bluer right in front of me." He was increasingly annoyed by this conversation. "How was that supposed to make me feel: _jealous?_ " If so, it worked.

"I was…"

Shit. That was four years ago. How the hell was she supposed to remember?

"I wanted to remind you that there's always going to be somebody stronger out there: somebody _better_. You should always strive to improve, Fugaku. A little competition never–"

He cleared his throat.

…

 **'** ** _Sorry, Kazusa-chan, but I have something more important to do than play with you today.'_**

 **Kazusa insisted it was a spar, but Naho honestly didn't see it that way. Kazusa still didn't have her sharingan and could be such a sore loser. If Naho didn't occasionally let her win (which Tenjin highly encouraged her to do), Kazusa would sulk and rage quit like an overgrown toddler.**

 **That fat little girl needed to grow up. In fact, growing up was precisely what Naho hoped to accomplish today. It didn't matter that Tenjin pushed her request to learn from him aside. With these bright and brilliant eyes of hers, she'd watch him in action and try to replicate the jutsu later. Problem solved!**

 **She'd packed some dried meat and fruit as a snack for later, just in case this took all day. It wouldn't be terribly far. Muraki explained what eminent domain meant to her earlier. People lived in an area that was marked for future construction and they'd need to vacate. Simple enough.**

 **According to her brother, their family was oftentimes asked to assist in eminent domain cases because they'd burn everything to the ground in record time. It made it easier for construction.**

 **Surely her father realized she followed him. If he did, he hadn't said anything. Senju Toka was his only backup, the decree in her hand. Tenjin stood otherwise alone, poised in one of his finest yellow silk shirts and only minimal armor. These people didn't intimidate him.**

 **An old man stepped forward, armed as heavily as he could muster. Behind him were a handful of starved, scared people who didn't quite know what to make of this man…until they saw the clan crest. They were petrified.**

 **"They only sent** ** _one_** **of you** ** _?_** **" the old man rasped. "I'll tell you what I told that bitch with the topknot already. We aren't leaving."**

 **"Toka offered you citizenship, which is more than I would have done." Tenjin didn't sound terribly moved. "The expansion will happen whether you like it or not. The Fire Daimyo already sanctioned it."**

 **"Go to hell, you firebug bastard."**

 **"This isn't your first notice," Toka countered, stepping forward with her scroll. "I've spoken with your clan** ** _five times_** **. Our Hokage even offered to compensate you and the price was more than fair."**

 **"Then I'll say it again: money isn't the issue. These are our ancestral lands. Just because a handful of freakish families decided to band together and build their village** ** _right in our back yard_** **, you think we'll–"**

 **All Tenjin had to do was step forward a few paces. The geezer stepped backward, face completely pallid. "You have two minutes to get your things and leave. Consider this your final warning."**

 **"Dear, maybe we** ** _should_** **take the money," a woman pleaded. "Two minutes isn't enough time to–"**

 **"I'm afraid** ** _that_** **offer expired, but I'm still offering you a chance to vacate with your lives." The Senju woman didn't say anything to correct present company. By this point, these people were beyond reasoning with. Talking was over.**

 **A younger man threw a rock in Tenjin's direction. He missed, but at least he tried. "They're** ** _bluffing_** **," the youth remarked. "Can't you see they're bluffing?! The Hokage's a peaceful man. He'll reason with us! This bitch brought an Uchiha along just so she could–"**

 **Tenjin's scarred hands moved, indicating the beginning formation of a jutsu. Smoke built in his mouth, reeking of burned flesh. Tongues of blue fire licked at his arms. These people spent so much time bickering among themselves that no one bothered to keep time.**

 **The tongues erupted into a full torrent, blinding and bright. A chorus of shrieks and screams sounded in all directions as the people tried to dissipate. Their houses may as well have been made of paper, considering how quickly the flames consumed them. Some of the people didn't get away in time. The flames consumed them and nothing but ash remained.**

 **In mere minutes, all traces of that tiny settlement were razed to the ground. Not even a blade of grass was spared.**

 **Naho was stunned and caught everything with her eyes, but that was nothing compared to the expression of unsurpassed terror on the face of her father's associate.**

 **Tenjin held out a hand toward the woman so they could shake on the completed task, but Toka recoiled. "What's the matter? You** ** _paid_** ** _me_** **for this." Her mouth was open, but no words came out. Only a frightened, muffled yelp did.**

 **…**

"I want you to listen to what I have to say. There's _chemicals_ you can use to increase the effectiveness of what you're already capable of. They're a shortcut." What's more, they duped his mother for years into thinking Naho could do far more jutsu than she actually could. "Alcohol. Sawdust. Petroleum. _Gunpowder_ …"

She knew every accelerant on the face of this awful earth and used them all. With her father in retirement and under permanent house arrest, the family business now belonged to her. So long as she contributed to the clan and no Konohagakure citizens died during one of her arsons, Kazusa had the KMPF turn a blind eye to the vast majority of cases where Naho's handiwork was involved. Foreigners were another story.

"We'll readdress this once you have the sharingan," she decided smugly. "I only showed such enthusiasm in training you to humor your mother." And Kazusa wasn't here this time. She could be honest about this for once. "You're smart, you really are, but you aren't anywhere close to my level. You're merely closer than my daughter is."

' _And now I know your true nature. Don't I?'_ Fugaku exhaled slowly. His patience was exhausted. "If you're going to be this big of a pain in my ass, I'll just ask Tenjin himself. He's still _alive_ in that big house of yours, isn't he?"

Fugaku refused to cave in. This simultaneously amused and worried Naho. She assumed nothing in the world could've made her cringe more than that statement…until Fugaku kept talking. "Or I could try to recreate it on my own."

"You wouldn't _dare_."

…

 **A few years ago,** **Uchiha Sarani's little brother drowned in the lake during a fishing accident. The boy had only been four or five** **. As a result, Tenjin had requested his sons supervise Naho around the lake until she learned how to swim. She mastered that quite some time ago.**

 **In the very early mornings, Sarani still came out here to fish by himself. By evening, however, she knew she'd have the dock to herself.**

 **Her father was busy assisting that Senju woman with** ** _another_** **eminent domain case, this time on the south side, because the Aburame Clan recently agreed to sign on board for the village model as well. They'd need a place to stay and the village once again called the Son of a Thousand Fires to clear the way.**

 **'** ** _I saw you in action. I had my sharingan on and studied your every move. I know the hand signs and I know what you did with your chakra. It can't be as hard as you're making it out to be!'_**

 **"Hey, Yasashī," she whispered to the lake. She'd liked that little boy. He'd be old enough to try out the first Academy class, had he survived. "Wanna see something impressive?"**

 **At night, she'd be better able to evaluate how bright and hot the flames were. Placing all her pellets, powders, oils, and other arsonist-in-training tools to the side, she stepped to the edge of the dock and poised herself exactly in the same stance her father used.**

 **'** ** _You're going to be so impressed when I tell you that I figured it out all by myself.'_**

 **As much as she blindingly adored her father, Naho suspected Tenjin underestimated her. She could do far more than he realized. This would prove that.**

 **The hand signs were done, the body poised, the chakra ready. She understood the need to hold it in longer than for a traditional fireball, but no one was around to tell her when to release. It took Tenjin six seconds, so Naho incorrectly assumed the same would be true for her.**

 **The ache in her chest should have been a telltale sign something was wrong. By the time blue flames erupted from Naho, it was too late.**

 **She couldn't control them.**

 **Her throat turned hoarse from screaming as loud as she could. The fire jutted out of her ribs as her whole chest cavity glowed in that same ominous, ghostly blue. Her lungs, heart, and throat seared and the smell of her own scorched flesh permeated her nose.**

 **Several lights turned on from the nearby homes. People ran out to see what the bright blue glow was, but Naho didn't pay attention. She** ** _couldn't_** **. The only thing her brain could register was the agonizing pain and primal panic.**

 **A tall, foreboding figure ran as fast as he could toward the dock, tackled the girl, and threw the both of them into the water. The flames turned to steam, Naho shivered all over, and all she wanted to do was lose consciousness so she wouldn't have to feel anything anymore. Even** ** _dying_** **would be preferable.**

 **"What the** ** _hell_** **, Naho?!"**

 **That's when it dawned on her that the man who went after her wasn't from her family. She was in the clan head's strong and powerful arms.**

 **"What were you trying to do?!"**

 **…**

The scars never healed properly, but she'd chosen high-collar shirts and dresses for years to hide her shame. Most people didn't know the full extent of her mutilation. Underneath, her breasts were both scarred. Everything from her clavicle to the bottom of her sternum told the sordid tale of the arrogant little genius who overestimated herself and paid the ultimate price for her hubris.

In time, she _did_ manage to master the blue flames. Her father conceded to train her after the incident, mostly out of guilt. But hidden away, where only her most intimate people could see, they saw the aftermath.

It was ugly and it was eternal.

She moved her lips to say something, her voice sore and dry, but it was too late. Fugaku turned away, ready to leave…but he didn't head toward the innermost part of Naho's estate.

To her silent relief, he went outdoors, where his teammates were waiting.


	21. Buried

Today's mission called for a more somber demeanor than was expected for most D-Ranks. The task wasn't high on the risk list, and therefore did not pay much, but it was a service that genin teams were always called to fill.

Cousin Kaede's team did this not so long ago. Teams went on rotate to make sure the cemetery's "perpetual care" policy was exactly that. Her group had replaced dead flowers for fresh ones and applied poison at locations where ants were spotted.

Fugaku's team had expected to do the same thing, until the caretaker handed all three children a shovel. "We'll be receiving more boxes of cremains at the end of the week," the caretaker explained. "There was a great loss on the eastern side…"

The ground was cold and hard, still clinging to the last throes of winter, and they had approximately one hundred and twenty holes to dig: forty apiece. For once, Nawaki didn't turn it into a contest to see who could dig the most in the shortest span of time.

"Guys?" Mitsumi meekly held up a long, lanky arm. "Is it alright if I take my lunch a little early? There's someone I want to visit."

Considering they'd be out on the grassy plain, the initial plan was to have the team join together for a picnic at the edge of the cemetery, eat the contents of their bentos, and then return to work. However, Fugaku could venture to guess what was going on with his teammate.

"No one's stopping you, Shinohara," he told her. "If you're hungry, go ahead. We'll eat later."

He turned toward Nawaki, curious to see if he wanted to eat now. The Senju boy shrugged and kept digging.

"One hundred and twenty of us came home in little wooden crates, Nawaki. That's just…I don't even know where to begin. I wonder if our families knew any of these people. Another team will place the memorial stones tomorrow, but it's so many holes." And not just in the earth. That was so many holes and so many families.

And judging from where Mitsumi was going, some of those holes were never properly refilled. Some stayed empty.

"I agree that it's a big number," Nawaki remarked as he continued to dig, "but it's less than it was even for our parents' generation. I know my history. Back in my grandpa's day, most of the casualties were little kids. Some were even younger than us and fighting those wars beside their parents: dying for causes they didn't fully understand. I'm sure most of the people who died in this battle were adults. They lived longer lives."

"Just because they made it to adulthood, that doesn't guarantee they died feeling fulfilled. Look." Fugaku tapped the Senju boy's shoulder and nudged him to look in Mitsumi's direction.

Mitsumi was a few acres south of them, out of earshot, but he could see she'd packed flowers in the picnic basket for one of the graves. She had her bento at her side and placed the orange at the headstone. That had to be where her mother was buried.

"Parents can die, too."

Not his mother, though. Fugaku was convinced Kazusa would live to be ninety or beyond just to spite everyone.

She'd always been the obnoxious sort of person who showed up to work even when she was sick or injured. Sanjo once told him about a time where Kazusa broke her arm and the bone broke past the skin. Instead of leaving to get medical attention, she taped it together, continued until the end of her shift, and _then_ proceeded to seek treatment at Konoha General.

She lived on a diet rich with ginger, soybeans, lean meats, and green tea during cold season. And despite her problem with being unable to turn down a cat in need and watching the house suffer as a result, Kazusa kept herself very, very clean. Nothing short of a near-death experience would slow her down.

Nawaki's nose wrinkled at Fugaku's remark. "I know that. My dad's buried out on the far left side. And my sister's out on the battlefield right now." He dug another hole, going at it a little harder and angrier than before. The ground fought back, so he had to stomp the shovel to make the earth comply. He silently wondered who would eternally rest inside it once it closed. "I'm worried. What if one of these holes is for Tsunade?"

Fugaku could already see the boy's lip quiver. He put down his own shovel, patted Nawaki on the back, and suggested they eat their lunch together after all. "It's one of the things we have to deal with as shinobi, Nawaki. Death happens."

Nawaki slowly nodded and plopped down on the cool earth. "Well, when I'm Hokage, I'm going to find a way to reduce the number of casualties. I'll train more medical ninja. I'll promote some of the smartest people I know to help me with better strategies. I'll–wait a minute. You aren't gonna fight me for the title, are you?"

"Why?" Fugaku smirked. "Are you worried that I have a better shot at it than you do? Relax. They'd never name a clan head as Hokage again." Not after Hashirama. "I don't mind being your right-hand guy and helping you achieve that dream of yours." He already knew his future. There was no point in wishing for more. "Just don't end up in a box, okay? Hey, Shinohara!"

His voice seemed to echo. Mitsumi glanced up.

"Take as much time as you need. We'll finish the job."

…

Tsunade wasn't the only one handling a mission abroad. Sarani accepted a hostage rescue mission and wouldn't be back for another two weeks. The house felt quieter without his loud music playing through the radio in the mornings. And Fugaku saw so little of his mother. Whenever Sarani got called away, Kazusa drowned herself in work to keep her mind and body busy.

That's why it caught him by surprise when he saw the lights on and silhouettes of people inside the house. Typically, his mother would leave a note on the refrigerator if she planned on inviting company over.

Considering Fugaku spent the vast majority of his day digging graves, his brain immediately jumped to the conclusion that his father died in combat. And if it wasn't Sarani, then it was somebody else in the clan. Naka or Naori, probably, considering how many voices he heard downstairs. Dread made his heart pound so heavily that he felt it in his throat, sore and throbbing.

Gingerly, he opened the door and stepped inside. About six KMPF officers were present, most of which he recognized. "He's home," Lieutenant Naka commented, turning his tired eyes toward Fugaku. This guy was his mother's right hand on the force, despite his terrible reputation in the last war. "Kazusa-taichou fainted at work."

"I did _not_ ," Kazusa snarled from the floor. "Stop lying, Naka." Her face was red, a wet washcloth was on her brow, and someone already helped her out of her uniform. "I'm–" Before she could lie and tell people she was fine, she broke into a loud and wet coughing fit. "Let me go back to my office, you bastards. My shift's not over."

"Why does she _always_ do this?" Yashiro grumbled to Sanjo, keeping his eyes on their captain. Sanjo's response was to shrug. "No. I mean it. Any theories?"

"Hell if I know," Sanjo retorted. "I just know she _never_ calls in sick." He pointed at Fugaku, thinking the boy didn't notice. "She probably would've gone into labor at the station if Sarani-sama hadn't talked her out of it."

"Were you around for the time she broke her arm and only went to the medics _after_ she clocked out?"

The conversation didn't go any further than that, mostly because Fugaku stepped nearer the two teenagers. They bit back the other choice words they carried for his mother.

Kazusa didn't have a history of fainting, and Fugaku had only ever seen her sick a couple of times. Both times, his father was there to take care of her and convince her that a little bed rest wouldn't kill her. Today, she looked so weak: not at all like the proud and powerful hellcat he was used to seeing.

"What happened?" he whispered, kneeling down to where she was. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright." She stifled another cough, but Fugaku took note at just how hot his mother's hand felt in his. Even some of the cats wanted to come forward to check on her. "I'll be back at work tomorrow." In the background, Fugaku saw several officers shake their heads.

"Fugaku," Naka ordered. "Do your mother a favor and make sure she stays home for a few days. I think my wife and I can take care of things while she recovers. If she or you need anything, you know where to find us."

"Yes, Naka _-taichou_." But even as he said it, he heard his mother groan. "So…can we get some air? Can everyone leave?"

…

Pertussis. When a medical ninja from Konoha General stopped by to check on Kazusa, that was the diagnosis.

Fugaku glanced over the prescribed medicine, making sure he gave Kazusa the antibiotics at the proper time and in the correct amount. Sometimes Kazusa coughed heavily enough to vomit, but her son was there to clean up the mess and watch over her.

He'd apologized to Mitsumi and Nawaki in advance for having to take some time off from missions, but they understood. Mitsumi sent a get well soon card (with a cat on it) and some flowers. Kazusa greatly appreciated the gift and wanted to send Mitsumi something back, but Fugaku talked her out of it.

Nawaki actually showed up, bringing crackers and miso soup mix. While it was a well-intended gesture, Yashiro saw a random Senju kid standing outside his clan head's front door and ended up shooing him away.

Once a day, Fugaku stopped by the station to pick up reports so Kazusa could at least keep her mind busy and work from home. The more he watched her go stir-crazy, the more worried he became. It never dawned on him before how tired she always appeared, with such dark bags under her eyes. Without the dark glasses to cover that up, her exhaustion couldn't be hidden.

"I'm making a soup for dinner," he offered. "Maybe with some chicken. Think you can–" Another loud, wet cough. "Can you handle that?"

"I can handle going back to _work_ ," she groaned. "I'm barely coughing anymore." Bullshit. There was blood in it last time. Fugaku eased in to give her another wet washcloth. Kazusa flinched. "You know what I want?"

"You aren't ready to return to work until a medic says so." And that was final. He wasn't going to budge on this. Even if he had to ask one of their neighbors to help him subdue his mother if she tried to sneak out again, he'd do it. She didn't have to test him to know he'd do it. "I'll draw you a bath, though, if you want one."

Slowly, she nodded, stifling another cough into a stained rag. Few things could relax her better than a long aromatherapy bath. Considering he felt guilty for keeping her away from her routine, he'd at least do this for her. As stubborn and adamant as his mother could be, it didn't change the fact that he loved her very dearly and wouldn't trade her for anyone else.

He could have had a mother like Naho _-oba_ : a strong dragon-woman with ice water for blood. Or maybe someone like Nanami _-oba_ : permissive and loving, but absent and borderline negligent. Or someone like Nawaki's mother: overprotective, constantly depressed, and unable to hold down a job because her grief was too much to bear.

Instead, he had a woman who fiercely and proudly carried enough strength to support not only her son, but her entire clan. Sometimes Kazusa was bullheaded, short-tempered, and impossible to reason with, but she poured her heart and soul into being the best leader she could be.

He had a mother who helped his grieving teammate fill some of the holes in her heart, giving Mitsumi an open ear when she needed it. She even warmed up to Nawaki, despite her hesitation and distrust toward the Senju Clan. His mother couldn't bear to see an animal starve or a cat stay homeless. She'd give anything to help.

Few people loved as deeply as Uchiha Kazusa. Her heart was far larger than the world realized. And the least Fugaku could do for that kind and overly generous heart was make sure she recovered and returned to a job she poured her passions into with every tired, worn out breath.

Stepping downstairs, he stifled his own cough. It started a day ago with a faint tickle to the throat. There was no need to worry her. When the medic came back, he'd have himself examined to rule out whooping cough. "Your bath's ready," he called out. "Are you–"

' _You've got to be kidding me.'_ The door was wide open. Fugaku took a deep breath, holding back another tickling cough, and charged after his mother. "The hell is _wrong_ with you!? You're in quarantine!"

Sometimes she wore on his every last nerve with her pigheadedness. Inwardly, he secretly prayed that his future children wouldn't be anywhere near as stubborn as his mother. It wasn't that Kazusa was going terribly fast, but the fact she'd–wait…

She was only going outside to watch the sunset. Kazusa's sharingan matched the same shade as the fat, swollen sun and her pale and clammy face caught the golden light upon the dewy beads of sweat.

"I'm sorry," he found himself apologizing, sitting next to her. "I thought you were trying to sneak out again." She didn't laugh. She didn't say or do _anything_ , aside from glance toward the sunset. "I just want you to get better, okay? If I'm coming across as kind of hard to deal with, then–"

She wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him next to her. Fugaku could feel her breath: still ragged, but also shaky. It wasn't a cough. Up close, he noticed the way her eyes caught the sunlight, too. They were wet. " _Okaa-san_ …?"

"You know I heard them, right?" she murmured. "When they told you about the broken arm and the other stuff? I've only taken off work a few times." Was this a pride thing? Why was she working herself up over it? "The whole reason I hate being sick and at home is because I don't want to get _you_ sick."

…

Kazusa didn't end up taking the bath. All she wanted to do was sleep. There was no point in letting the water go to waste, so Fugaku slid into the water, soaking in what his mother confided to him. It answered questions he'd never had the heart to ask.

 ** _"Nineteen years ago, your father and I both caught a bad case of the flu. Neither one of us were fit for duty and ended up staying home."_**

Nineteen years ago, his mother would have been twenty-five and his father twenty-eight. She was a sturdy forty-four now with tiny traces of iron gray beginning to build in her roots. And yet she still wanted to pretend she was young and full of life.

 ** _"The two of us were young, sick, and stubborn. As ill as we were, we took turns caring for each other. One of us would go out for supplies, even though we could barely move. The other one would lie there and try to recuperate. Your auntie offered to look after the baby for us until we felt better."_**

His experiences with Naho over the past eleven years left a bad taste in Fugaku's mouth. Nothing about that woman struck him as all that maternal. Despite that, he knew how deeply his mother trusted her.

He also knew he wasn't Kazusa and Sarani's first child. The clan seldom discussed the first son, mostly because he didn't survive infancy. Between the dead son and Fugaku, there were a string of failed pregnancies, both male and female. His mother was thirty-three by the time she held another living child in her arms. He knew the baby's name, though.

 _Keita_ : their little blessing.

 ** _"A few days later, your father and I felt well enough to eat, sleep, and fend for ourselves. I thought we'd beaten it, and I asked Naho to give me back my son."_**

What happened next in the story would make it difficult to sleep that night and quite possibly for several more. Even nineteen years later, Fugaku heard the anguish in his mother's voice. She swore up and down that the greatest pain one could ever experience in life was the death of a beloved child.

As he sat in the water, feeling ill and damp inside his own lungs, he tried to process what Kazusa confided to him. The baby caught the same fever, but his immune system wasn't strong enough to fight back.

At least, that was what Naho conveyed to Kazusa. Judging from the tone in Kazusa's voice, it didn't feel like she believed her friend.

So now he knew. He grew up as an only child because of this incident. All the times his mother smothered him with medicine and care over something as menial as a cold now made _too_ much sense. She worked to stay away.

As he came back downstairs, he noticed Kazusa fell asleep on the patio, a feverish cheek pressed to the cold hard wood. Cautiously, not wanting to wake her up, Fugaku reached for a blanket and placed it over her, gently stroking her back. A muffled cough came out.

' _Don't worry about me, okay? Haven't I proven my strength to you enough?'_


	22. Assessment

The heat from the swollen summer sun baked the earth, leaving the grass brittle and dry. It didn't take a genius to realize how much convenient kindling surrounded him. Today wasn't a mission, but rather a reprieve. The three decided to two-way spar and evaluate how well they'd improved over the course of this magnificent year.

Mitsumi and Nawaki paired off against Fugaku since their teamwork required more improvement. Either one of them held no difficulty partnering up with their Uchiha teammate, but they'd been oil and water as of late with one another. Nawaki's spontaneous and organic thought process clashed horribly with Mitsumi's meticulous, methodical approach.

"He'll use a _Katon_ any minute now," Mitsumi warned Nawaki, bracing herself. "We need to move the fight to an area with less grass: something rocky or earthy. Alright?"

"You're not the boss of me, Mitsumi _-chan_! I've got this!"

And this was the sort of ridiculous hotheadedness Fugaku tried his best to quash in his friend, but to no avail. If he gave Nawaki an order, Nawaki did it. His defiance in regard to Mitsumi's suggestions indicated he didn't see her as strong enough to respect, and that greatly pissed him off. She knew what she was doing, so why didn't he listen?

Fugaku prepared to charge in for the attack, eager to give these two no choice _but_ to work together, but they were too busy bickering to pay him any heed. Mitsumi's arms swung in long, exaggerated directions and she kept stomping her foot. Nawaki made some rude gestures her way and talked over her.

"Enough!" His teammates turned in his direction. "You want to know why we've been assigned nothing but D-Ranks since the Koyamagakure mission? It's because you won't cooperate _._ There's at least _eight_ ways I could have killed the both of you by now."

Nawaki frowned. "Well, maybe if Mitsumi-chan wasn't so _bossy_ –"

Mitsumi laughed loudly and sarcastically at that, craning her neck back as she placed her hands to her hips. Both of her auburn braids flopped behind her like ropes or twin tails. She hoarsely huffed that she gave up: that Nawaki was incorrigible.

"Screw you. I'm _not_ hopeless!"

Mitsumi turned around, dumbfounded.

" _Yeah,_ Mitsumi _-chan_. I know what _incorrigible_ means. I'm not stupid!"

It didn't matter how pleading a glance Nawaki attempted to give his teammate; Nawaki wouldn't be able to convince Fugaku to continue. "No. That's not going to work on me. If I'm immune to Mi _-chan_ and Kaede when _they_ pout, what makes you think I'll cave in to you?"

Nawaki needed to be pulled aside for a heart to heart. "Whatever this thing is between you and Shinohara, it needs to stop. You both work just fine with _me_. Maybe the two of you should consider going on a few more missions without me."

That way, he could focus a little more of his efforts into assisting his mother and the clan. From there, he could get his foot in the door for a few C-Ranks. The team wasn't receiving those because Fugaku was their only chūnin and they all knew it.

Nawaki glanced down, wringing his hands. "That's part of the problem. When Kazusa _-sama_ was sick and you took time off to help her out, I was stuck with Mitsumi _-chan_ all day." And judging from the annoyed expression on his face, things didn't go well.

The thing was Fugaku knew Mitsumi's faults and shortcomings. She was a clever girl, but far from a powerhouse in combat. She could think her way into getting the team out of a tough situation and could escape almost any trap put in front of her, but that sometimes left her with an elevated sense of superiority.

As much as Mitsumi would deny it if Fugaku confronted her about it, she occasionally acted as though she carried all the answers, even when she couldn't personally perform the action.

"All she does is boss me around and tell me that I'm doing everything wrong."

' _Called it.'_

"It's always the same crap with her. She's right, I'm wrong, and I need to listen to her instead of jumping into action. Can you understand my frustration here?" Nawaki groaned, deciding to sit on his hands to keep himself from fidgeting further. "My jutsu skills are better than hers."

Mitsumi only beat Nawaki in Taijutsu; Fugaku could concur.

"Someone like that is better suited to be a teacher than a real ninja."

"Hey…" That was taking it a bit too far. "Did you ever stop to think how stressful it has to be, having the two of us for teammates?" The Shodaime Hokage's grandson and the future head of the Uchiha Clan? Who could compete with that? "Her dad's not even a ninja. She probably feels like a third wheel."

He knew Mitsumi. In fact, he'd been friends with her a little longer than he'd been friends with Nawaki. True, he liked Nawaki better and he'd quickly become one of his closest and dearest friends, but he understood how Mitsumi operated. "I think she's being rude to you because you're being rude to her. I don't know who started it, but it doesn't matter. We're a team and that means we're stuck with each other. Try to work together, would you?"

Nawaki glanced down and pulled a piece of paper out of his bag. "I'll _try,_ but there's something I wanted to talk to you about. One of my sister's teammates wants to take a team along for a B-Rank. I was wondering if you'd put in a–"

"Absolutely not." Nawaki wasn't ready and neither was Mitsumi. "Not until our teamwork improves."

It was one thing if they didn't cooperate during training or a D-Rank. A B-Rank was a whole other animal. Maybe _Fugaku_ could handle it, provided he went alongside more qualified people, but he didn't want to run the risk of putting either of his teammates in harm's way. This was war time. Too much was at stake.

The Senju boy scooted closer and scowled, glancing at the paper. "Who died and made you squad leader?" When Fugaku didn't budge, Nawaki tried another tactic. "If we don't get this mission, _Mikuro's_ team will. Do you really want that?"

No, he didn't. No part of Fugaku wanted to give Shimura Mikuro a chance to climb up the ranks. "Say what you will. His teamwork's better than ours. His teammates don't bicker between themselves like we do." That was it, though; Mikuro, Neyuki, and Kaede weren't exactly the best of friends, but they'd grown into a frighteningly efficient genin team.

Fugaku even noticed a positive change in Kaede over the past few months. She'd begun asking her teammates to help her with her problem areas so she could improve and keep up. At one point, he overheard Mikuro call her out on it, telling her that her biggest hang-up was self-doubt. Once she got over her insecurity, she'd soar. So the Shimura boy believed.

He'd even agreed to a few practice fights with Mikuro and Neyuki before. _Both_ of them were strong and it was damn near impossible to sneak up on the latter. Neyuki couldn't be ambushed.

"Face it. We have a lot to work on before we accept a B-Rank as a group." Fugaku could trust someone from the clan to watch his back on such a mission. These two would devolve into petty squabbling within minutes. "I'll sign us up for another D-Rank, just so we can–what?"

"Please give it more thought, Fugaku. I really, _really_ want this."

' _Just like you wanted to be put on this team?'_ He wanted to say it so badly, but Fugaku held his tongue. "…I'll think about it."

…

"Well, of _course_ you're going to sign up." Kazusa, as always, felt as though she had all the answers. "Orochimaru studied directly under the Sandaime Hokage. An opportunity like that isn't going to drop in your lap again for a very long time, son. Take the mission. Learn. Make yourself known."

Fugaku turned toward his father after that, wondering what Sarani's take on all this would be. "I feel like I could probably handle it, but it's not just my life on the line if I accept it. Shinohara and Nawaki would have to go, too. Are _they_ ready?"

"You aren't their sensei," Kazusa pointed out, slipping more of her yakisoba into her mouth. "That's not your call to make. It's _Orochimaru's,_ isn't it? You know, he was the top of _his_ class eight years before you. I'm sure he'll like you."

Fugaku had his doubts such feelings would be mutual. He'd only watched the three in passing. Jiraiya was loud and boisterous. Tsunade treated him like a little pest every time he stopped by to collect Nawaki for training, a mission, or the weekly get-together with their former classmates. Orochimaru made his skin crawl. There was something off about him.

"Just like I'm sure you'll be picked if you put your name out there."

Sarani finally put the paper down and glanced first toward his wife, then his son. "I agree with your mother. It's a good opportunity. There's even a chance this man might become Hokage someday. You could learn a lot from Orochimaru, even if it's only for this one mission. Besides, he's teammates with Nawaki's sister. If you're worried about Nawaki, I'm sure Orochimaru will take great care to watch over him."

It wasn't the answer Fugaku wanted. He'd honestly hoped to hear his father say he needed more time, that he shouldn't be in such a rush to accept a dangerous task. True, he didn't know what this B-Rank entailed, but it was a _B-Rank_. It had to be dangerous.

"You've gone above and beyond to accommodate for your team. We're both very proud of you." Sarani smiled and nudged his dessert a little closer to his eleven-year-old. "But this is a chance to make the whole village proud of you. Don't you want that?"

…

"Fine. You win. We'll put our names out there for consideration." Fugaku let loose a long sigh as he sat at the barbecue restaurant alongside his team. Sitting across the table were Mikuro, Neyuki, and Kaede. "But I'm serious, guys. You need to work on your teamwork before I feel comfortable doing this."

Nawaki's eyes weren't the only ones gleaming with ambition. Fugaku saw it in Mitsumi, too. She held her head high today and used the most proper, ladylike techniques with her chopsticks. Today, she intended to show off.

"I'm _sure_ I can showcase all our abilities when I write the team summary report," she insisted. "Besides, at least it's not Jiraiya forming the team, Mikuro _-kun_. He'd probably pick your team over ours because Kaede's way cuter than I am."

Kaede giggled at that. At first, Mitsumi did too…until she realized not a single one of the boys at the table refuted her claim. "Ahem!"

"Hm?" Mikuro poked at a chopped pepper and took it from the grill. "Oh, sorry. Did you want us to comment on that or are you fishing for compliments?"

"Ooooooh!"

After he ate the pepper, the Shimura boy stretched and placed both his arms behind his head. It was a power pose: one that folks used to indicate they were completely relaxed. "I'm glad you're signing up your team, Shinohara. That means it's going to be all the more satisfying when _we_ get picked and you don't."

"The feeling's mutual, asshole." Fugaku smirked and stole a rare piece of meat before Neyuki could get to it. "But I'll admit something. I think you have a better chance of being chosen."

"You're admitting my superiority? That's mighty big of you, Fugaku."

"Your superiority as a _team_? I am. You three work like a well-oiled machine."

Kaede whispered something to Nawaki he didn't quite catch. Nawaki grinned and eagerly whispered something back. Fugaku wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what they were talking about.

"By comparison…I think you can see for yourself. We still fight among ourselves quite regularly. I don't know how the three of you ended up working so well together, but it's going to pay off someday."

"I know." Mikuro didn't even sound fazed. "So what exactly is your squad's specialty? Do you even have one yet?"

They didn't.

"We're a sabotage squad," he went on to explain. "Turns out Kaede's one hell of a firebug. Who knew?" That last part sounded sarcastic. "And Neyuki's traps are second to none. As for myself, well…" He wasn't going to advertise what he did. Not so easily. "Let's just say that if Orochimaru's mission involves sabotage or siege, we're suited to do it. So…what about you guys? Have you found _your_ calling yet?"

"At _this_ time?" Mitsumi growled, poking at her food. She still appeared to be a little sore from having nobody jump to her defense earlier. Sometimes she'd give Nawaki a dark look. Other times, Fugaku. "No. It's too early to tell. Nawaki's still catching up."

"Then it's a reach for you to think Orochimaru will—"

" _But,_ " she continued, some of that pride returning in her voice, "we've disarmed a minefield, taken a killer cat to the vet, delivered a decrypted confidential message to an undercover operative, _saved a foreign clan_ , and…I dunno." It sounded at first like she wanted to downplay their accomplishments. Then she added her punchline. "I guess you could say our portfolio is a little more diverse than yours, Mikuro _-kun_."

"Oh! Don't forget the time we delivered severed heads to the Yamanaka Clan head!" Nawaki piped in. By now, most of the animosity was gone. The whole team wanted something and that meant they'd work together to get it. Nawaki eagerly retold that story for everyone, watching in delight as Kaede squealed in disgust, burying her face in her hands.

"Is that so?" Mikuro quietly smiled, keeping his true comments to himself. "Well, I wish you the best of luck. You're going to need it."

"We all will," Mitsumi agreed. "Good luck to you guys, too."

…

Along with the summation report of the team's skills, each member needed to provide an individual summation. Fugaku chose to be quite conservative with what he had to say about himself, mostly because he felt the bare facts would be enough. His graduation date, his chūnin promotion date, and a summation of his more impressive missions would surely suffice.

He chose to spend the night at Nawaki's house that evening, listening to the radio and writing his summary as he heard whatever trended on the airwaves. Nawaki sat nearby, hard at work on his own paper, eagerly attempting to showcase every little awesome thing he could do.

"Are you writing a _manifesto_ over there?" Fugaku joked, throwing a pencil at his friend. "Nawaki, he has to read six of these plus what we said about our groups. Don't write a novel."

Nawaki kept feverishly scribbling. "I want it _so bad_ , okay? This mission would launch just in time for my birthday." He could go on his first B-Rank at twelve. "Maybe once it's over, Mitsumi-chan and I can take the Chūnin Exam together and see if we have what it takes. Then we'll _finally_ be the same rank!"

"Careful." For this, Fugaku couldn't help but tease his friend. "In that time, the village might decide to make me a _jōnin._ Then we'll have to do this same dance all over again."

The Senju boy cuffed his friend's shoulder for that and huffed out a little laugh. "Stop trying to act all cool and smug, Fugaku. Sooner or later, you'll run out of promotions. Then we'll be even until I become Hokage."

Fugaku lightheartedly shoved the boy back. "Oh, please. Even if that happens, _everyone's_ going to know who the real power behind the throne is."

From the bottom of his heart, he wanted Nawaki to succeed in his dream. It would mean that all but one Hokage held Senju blood in his veins, but Nawaki would be different. He wasn't anything like his grandfather or great-uncle.

Nawaki was _special_.

Unlike his grandfather, he was born and raised in this village. He loved it with all his heart, but was realistic enough in his approach to know that some things needed to be fixed. Nawaki saw what worked and what didn't. And unlike his great-uncle, he'd have the future of the Uchiha Clan by his side every step of the way. The sort of friendship Hashirama always hoped for would come to pass in his grandchild's lifetime.

They'd bring about a golden age: just the two of them. And once others saw how well they worked together, all those old tensions and animosities would die the slow, quiet death they deserved.

"We'll be unstoppable someday," Nawaki decided. "I can hardly wait." Scooting closer, he held out his summation. "Read it over for me? Let me know if it's overkill."

It was.

"Nawaki…" Fugaku scanned over the paper and couldn't help but frown. "You only just started working on these moves. I'd hardly call that _mastering_ them. And you're padding your résumé. Some of these missions don't exist. I can't believe you! This isn't–"

It was inaccurate. Everything was puffed up in subtle ways that only Nawaki's regular teammates would catch. Nobody else would notice, but Fugaku did. This was wrong and he knew it.

' _But his birthday is right around the corner,'_ he thought guiltily. ' _If we take this for his birthday, succeed, and put his name out there closer to_ _ **my**_ _birthday for promotion, he'll be so happy.'_

And Nawaki felt capable enough of doing the mission. So long as Fugaku stayed alert and watched out for his team, then maybe the mission would go off without a hitch.

"Should I change it?" Nawaki's eyes were big and pleading.

 **An opportunity like that isn't going to drop in your lap again for a** ** _very_** **long time. Take the mission. Learn.** ** _Make yourself known_** **.**

' _I know how much you want it. You'll never forgive me if this opportunity passes you by.'_

This was perhaps the best and kindest thing Fugaku could do for his friend. This one time, he'd turn a blind eye and wouldn't call Senju Nawaki on his bluffs. Maybe he didn't always have to take the high road.

Quietly, the Uchiha boy pursed his lips into a resigned smile and shook his head. ' _Happy birthday,'_ he thought, only to find himself tackled to the floor and locked in a hug.

For now, he'd merely soak up the moment and feel Nawaki's excitement all around him. His friend spoke so rapidly that none of the words made any sense, but Nawaki's joy was contagious.

If Nawaki was happy, then he could be happy. No one ever had to know he lied.


	23. Spectacular Rival

Despite Nawaki's insistence that going on this mission was the greatest birthday present ever and his friends didn't need to get him anything else, Fugaku knew how his friend operated. If his teammates took Nawaki at his word and left him with nothing to unwrap when the big day arrived, he'd sulk for weeks.

Initially, Fugaku couldn't determine what to give his teammate. Sarani kept nudging him to bequeath one of Kazusa's cats to Nawaki, but both men hesitated as soon as the lady of the house came home.

The epiphany came later. He'd seen the way Nawaki eyed his ceramic shuriken set, so Fugaku purchased a kunai for his teammate. This mission would be as good a time as any to test it out, considering it was Nawaki's _other_ gift: a B-Rank mission underneath one of the Sandaime Hokage's students.

Today's plan involved collecting Mitsumi first and meeting the birthday boy at the rendezvous point. From there, the three of them would wait for their temporary squad leader. According to his parents, Orochimaru was one of those talented geniuses seen only once every few generations. Therefore, his mother demanded he sign on board for the mission and learn all he could from this man.

The Shinohara home quickly fell into his range of vision as he made his way into one of the more heavily congested parts of the village. Outside, he saw Mitsumi sitting on the porch with her daffodil yellow travel kit. Sometimes, when she assumed nobody was watching, she'd fall back on old habits and–

"You're still biting your nails, huh?" So her father noticed.

Mr. Shinohara, despite being one of the tallest and biggest men Fugaku had ever encountered, didn't have a mean bone in his body. It didn't take a genius or even a psychic to see his daughter meant everything to him. "Please tell me you packed some hot sauce for your hands. That's not very ladylike."

"I thought I wanted this mission," Mitsumi muttered, continuing to bite. "I don't _._ I can't stop thinking about what happened to…" It didn't even need to be stated aloud. Fugaku's heart did a back-flip. Mitsumi's mind was on her mother. "But if I say something to the boys, then…what do I _do_?"

Two strong hands rested on Mitsumi's narrow shoulders, squeezing in a gentle, caring way. "I don't know what to tell you, honey. Your mother would know, but I'm clueless when it comes to ninja stuff. This is something you'll have to figure out on your own. Just be sure to come back home to dear ol' dad in one piece, okay?"

Mr. Shinohara spotted one of his daughter's teammates and smirked. "You'll protect my daughter while you're on this mission; won't ya, Fugaku?" Fugaku bowed. "'atta boy. Take care, kids."

But it was too late. Upon closer inspection, Fugaku noticed Mitsumi chewed at least two of her nails down to the raw, pinkish quick. He cringed.

"Are you okay, Shinohara?" Mitsumi's response involved faking a smile and acting as if she forgot something. "Whatever you're thinking about, it can wait."

"No it can't!" Mitsumi insisted, darting inside to grab a tiny box. Her twin auburn braids bounced as she walked. "Today's Nawaki's birthday. I'm not about to show up at the rally point without a gift!"

"He said the mission was enough."

"You're such a hypocrite. You bought him something, too." Mitsumi thumped his shoulder playfully and tiptoed back to her front porch. "It's alright. I think he's more easily excited than you are." And, go figure, all he did was shrug in response. "Stop. You're only proving my point."

This came as a relief, at least. Despite the fact Mitsumi and Nawaki argued and occasionally fought, Mitsumi at least cared enough to buy him a gift. Deep down, she did care. "My birthday's next week," Fugaku reminded Mitsumi. "Is it rude of me to ask if you–"

"I bought you something," she answered, "but it's staying here until _after_ the mission. You'll only get it once all of us come home safe." She batted her brown eyes and reached for her bag. "Alright. I'm ready to go. Let's meet Nawaki and Orochimaru _-san_."

…

It wasn't like Nawaki to be late. If anything, every last person on this squad could agree to show up on time or even slightly early. Punctuality never proved to be an issue. If anything, Nawaki typically showed up first. Everything depended solely on one thing first and foremost: his enthusiasm and interest in the mission. As a result, both his teammates were a tad surprised when the Senju boy wasn't at the north gate.

"Just how old does she think I am?" they heard him grumble as he strolled along, wiping his forehead. "I'm not a little kid. I don't need birthday kisses. Ugh…"

"Aww. Your sister kissed you?" Fugaku teased. Nawaki froze in place, cheeks turning beet red. If he couldn't tease his friend a little, then it wouldn't be a fun birthday. "How _sweet_."

Nawaki's cheeks turned rosy and pink. "Like Kazusa _-taichou's_ any better with you! She hugs you until you try to squirm away. Why do girls have to be so embarrassing sometimes?" No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remove the sensation from that kiss on his brow. "I wish more of them were like Mitsumi-chan."

Well, that certainly caught her off guard. "Eh?"

"Yeah!" Wait. Were they on good terms now? What a relief. "You aren't as sappy as Tsunade. You're practically one of the guys!" Uh-oh. Now he had to backtrack. "Except you're cute. _Super cute_."

" _Now_ who's being sappy?" Mitsumi took in a deep breath and sighed as she held out her gift for Nawaki. "Happy birthday, you big baby."

Nawaki's face turned even redder as he murmured something about how he didn't need to open presents on his birthday anymore, but both his teammates were ready to call him on his bluff. They saw the excitement in his eyes.

It wasn't much, but Mitsumi purchased a little box of gourmet sweets as a birthday treat. "Thanks!" Nawaki merrily put the box among his travel supplies after popping one of the candies in his mouth. "That was really nice of you, Mitsumi _-chan_ , but you didn't have to–eh?! _You too?!_ "

"Relax. It's a practical gift." And with that, Fugaku surrendered the gift. The tiny boost of adrenaline Nawaki experienced from Mitsumi's gift was eclipsed by his curiosity in what his Uchiha friend purchased for him. Nawaki shook the box a little, trying to figure out what was inside.

' _Sometimes, it's hard for me to remember you're technically older than me.'_

Fugaku heard the boy start to snigger, and that left him curious. "What's so funny?" Nawaki gestured for the Uchiha boy to come closer. "What?"

"Remember the time Sanjo _-san_ bought you a nudie mag?" Nawaki whispered, mischief teeming in his tone. "Did you–"

"Just open the damn box." And sure enough, Fugaku's prediction proved to be correct. Nawaki liked the gift. "Just don't use it on anything hard like stone or wood or bone, okay?"

Before Fugaku knew it, Nawaki pulled both his teammates into a hug. The utter joy felt by that boy was tangible, like sunshine. "You're the best teammates I could ever ask for. This is the best birthday _ever!_ "

"Because of the mission?"

"Not just that. Look at what Tsunade gave me!" At first, neither Fugaku nor Mitsumi had any clue what they were looking at. It was a nice necklace: simplistic and tasteful enough to be worn stylishly by a man or woman. Still, Nawaki didn't seem the sort for pendants. "It used to belong to my grandpa!"

And now it made all the sense in the world why Nawaki was high on life itself. Tsunade gave him a tiny piece of Senju Hashirama as a good luck charm. If any part of him could emulate the Shodaime Hokage, he'd take it.

Even Fugaku was impressed now. "Can I touch it?" he asked, holding out his hand. Nawaki defensively clutched the necklace instead. "Oh, come on. It's just a–"

"You're all on time. Perfect." And perfection was clearly the bar at which this man would set for the whole of the mission.

Orochimaru was someone Fugaku only saw in passing a few times in the village, but he'd quickly made a name for himself as one of the most impressive shinobi for his generation. He climbed the ranks at an impressive rate. Some people were even whispering rumors that he'd be the Konoha Council's pick as a future Hokage.

' _I didn't even hear him approach us.'_ And Fugaku's hearing was quite sharp. He gave a polite bow, as did Mitsumi. "To be early is to be on time, _senpai_." This man outranked him and he knew it. "We wouldn't be late for something this important."

Orochimaru smiled at that, amber eyes narrowing on the trio of children before him. "I selected your team over the other one for a set number of reasons. The most important one is that two of you have prior experience diffusing explosives."

Fugaku turned toward Mitsumi, who smiled at him. She'd glanced over the details of this mission and, true to her word, figured out precisely _which_ information was worthy of highlighting.

"…that and _someone's sister_ twisted my arm."

Nawaki turned scarlet at that, glancing down in embarrassment, especially when he heard Fugaku cough _nepotism_ under his breath. "You know what? Screw my sister! She had no reason to do that. I'm qualified, damn it! I'll show you!"

Orochimaru seemed hardly convinced. "We'll split the team into pairs for the purposes of this mission. _Mitsumi-chan_." Mitsumi glanced up. "I read over your paperwork. I want you to be in charge of deactivating the explosives. You'll need someone to cover for you as you do so. I'll take one of you with me for the combat portion and–" Nawaki stepped forward. "No, Nawaki. You're guarding the girl. Your team only has one chūnin, and it isn't you."

"…you're underestimating Nawaki, sir. He's plenty capable. I'll pair up with Shinohara." The last thing Fugaku wanted was to spoil today. Nawaki deserved the best.

…

Somewhere along the way, he lost count of how many mosquitoes bit him. ' _Why couldn't we have an Aburame in the squad?'_ Fugaku growled a few choice expletives under his breath, swatting one of the nagging insects. He knew he'd come home covered in itchy bumps, annoying as they were. At least they were saving the village.

Three bombs were diffused already. Intelligence indicated at least eight were planted in locations around the outskirts of the village. Should any be mistakenly left behind, especially those closest to the gates, the enemy could infiltrate with ease.

It was his first time witnessing a summoning animal in person and Fugaku was mesmerized. Orochimaru lived up to his formidable reputation. With one strike, an enemy saboteur hit the ground with four puncture wounds in his chest. Fugaku's dark eyes went wide in astonishment.

An older man in the clan once told him that he missed out on a great tradition by being cheated out of a permanent mentor. Watching how effortlessly Orochimaru could maneuver, it all started to make sense. Maybe if this went well, he'd consider the team on a more permanent basis. But now wasn't the time for loud noises or rash action.

Nawaki rushed ahead, ready to prove himself the instant he caught sight of the second saboteur. The gemstone pendant gleamed in the moonlight as he ran forward, pumped with adrenaline.

Maybe it was for the best that someone charged first. Mitsumi was too busy cutting wires and diffusing bombs to run into action. Fugaku's role, at present, involved keeping a careful eye on his kunoichi teammate so she could finish. He'd made a promise to her father, after all. He'd protect her.

Perhaps there was nothing to worry about. The team hadn't split up _too_ much. Orochimaru gave Nawaki the opportunity to jump into action at his side while Fugaku and Mitsumi volunteered for the quieter, more tedious portion. It all worked out. This was what he _wanted_.

But they hadn't diffused the bombs in that area, and Nawaki was the only one who hadn't been present for the minefield mission. ' _Idiot! Wait for_ –'

A loud eruption sent debris flying at every angle, bright and terrible enough to briefly feel as bright as day. The sheer impact of the detonation knocked Fugaku off his feet, unceremoniously dropping him to the ground. Before it even dawned on him the severity of what just happened, a familiar necklace flew back toward the damned earth, right at Orochimaru's feet.

The Uchiha's ears rang and some of the shrapnel scratched his face, but he was otherwise fine. Out of the corner of his eye, Fugaku saw Mitsumi sprawled out and unresponsive. Her arms and legs were twisted like those of a dead spider. Blood trickled from the side of her head, soaking in her ginger hair until it looked scarlet, but at least she was breathing.

Orochimaru shouted something at Fugaku, but the Uchiha boy didn't hear him. All he heard was the ringing tinnitus and the sound of his own racing heart as he threw himself to caution and toward the source of the explosion.

…

Fugaku didn't recall screaming himself hoarse as he held Nawaki in his arms, or how he refused to let go even after his clothes sopped up enough of his friend's blood to leave his whole front drenched in crimson. He couldn't hear Orochimaru tell him it was too late, that the boy probably died on impact…

He did, however, recollect the awful sight when he found his fallen friend. Nawaki's cheeks were always rosy and prone to blushing over even the slightest bit of praise. A smile commonly settled on his face, leaving him with a perpetual expression of mild to severe bemusement. His hair was the color of a young sapling, daring to grow in all directions. And always, regardless of his mood, he _always_ radiated such _warmth_ toward those he loved.

None of that matched the corpse he'd cradled and cried into. What remained of Nawaki's head wasn't even connected to his body anymore.

Nawaki's chest and a quarter of his skull were blown clean open. The right part of his jaw ripped away from the rest of the head, leaving his tongue and some teeth bare in a sea of scarlet. The damage went all the way to a missing ear and broke the cavity, causing gray matter to leak out.

That would have been a Hokage's brain.

Nawaki's optimistic mind carried so many aspirations that Fugaku felt he held enough for the both of them. He didn't even _need_ to dream with Nawaki around. Everything made sense. If he hoped hard enough and did his best to keep Nawaki safe, at least until he was strong enough to stand on his own, then everything would someday be fine.

But it wouldn't, would it?

A Hokage didn't only need his brain; he needed his guts, too. They were slick, wet, and never meant to be visible. Colors and smells Fugaku didn't even know a human body could make, he experienced from his friend. This mutilated, dreadful, broken _thing_ that grew increasingly colder with every minute…

"No…" He felt a pale hand reach for him, touching his shivering back. "Stop. _Don't_ …" But Orochimaru didn't adhere to his request. It was childish and he knew it, but he shook his head and held on tighter, as if that would change anything. "Go _away_! Weren't you supposed to keep us safe?!"

It caught him by surprise when something like a pin pricked his neck. His limbs went slack and heavy, it was hard to move, and he felt himself go limp. Fugaku slouched over, finding it harder to stay conscious.

His right cheek and shoulder hit the blood-soaked ground as he collapsed. As he fought his hardest to hold onto consciousness, the last thing he felt was Orochimaru pry Nawaki out of his arms.

…

For all the bitter animosity he felt toward Orochimaru for failing to protect the group, that man carried on without the two surviving children to complete the mission by himself. Somewhere along the way, he must have called for backup because additional shinobi came to the site and returned the squad, living and dead, to the village.

The ringing in Fugaku's ears had mostly dissipated, but the guilt in his heart refused to ease up. Every time he closed his eyes, it felt fresh all over again. Both he and Mitsumi were checked into the hospital. She was concussed and broke a leg. Fugaku was roughed up and in shock, but otherwise fine. Nawaki went to the morgue, all by himself.

' _I thought we'd grow up together, Nawaki. We'd come back, you'd match my rank someday, and I'd be the one to help you most of all with your dream. I'd be there by your side. Forever.'_ But it wasn't enough. For all the hard work and effort Fugaku put into improving his strength and prowess as a shinobi, he couldn't even protect his closest, dearest, most beloved friend.

Nawaki's family chose to put him to rest in private, not even wishing to invite the boy's friends and teammates over. The wounds in their hearts ran too deep.

…

A week later, warm sunlight trickled into Fugaku's bedroom and heated up his cheek. Instead of waking up right away, he rolled over. It had been such a beautiful dream. The details already proceeded to leave his mind like steam from a hot shower, but it'd been nice. That much, he recalled.

He heard the radio downstairs and smelled his father's cooking. Whatever it was, he recognized the smell of cooked meat. His stomach did a somersault because he felt ill.

As he became more awake, it dawned on Fugaku what day it was.

' _It's my birthday._ ' He turned twelve today.

Just a week ago, Mitsumi teased him and swore she'd give him his gift once everyone came home safely. He celebrated a birthday with somebody he'd grown to love from the very bottom of his heart. And less than twenty-four hours later, it was over.

His parents tried to tell him Nawaki's death was probably instantaneous, that he didn't even feel it, but that didn't make it any easier.

Tears beaded up in his eyes and he muffled his screams into the pillow. He wanted to tear it apart and torch the bed because it wasn't fair. Nawaki wasn't supposed to die so easily, and especially not so soon. They were going to grow up together and make this village better than it had ever been or ever would be.

Nawaki used to insist that since their birthdays, August 9th and August 16th, were only one week apart, it fated them to be best friends. Last year, they even celebrated in the middle of the week to consolidate it into one bigger fuss rather than two short ones. This was no longer an option.

On his nightstand beside his alarm clock, he spotted something that wasn't there last night: a birthday card. Picking it up, he quickly recognized Nawaki's handwriting and felt like he was going to vomit.

From here on out, every last birthday he experienced would be a blemish on his soul: a sordid reminder that as he grew older and reached another landmark, Nawaki would forever be frozen at twelve.

He'd never experience his first kiss, fall in love with someone to the point of making his eyes light up, or build new lives. Dreams of retiring together someday and teasingly pitying the mountain for carrying Nawaki's goofy old face turned to ash. By the time he put the card down, his eyes hurt.

…years later, the most he'd ever tell people was that he activated his sharingan by the age of twelve.

 **END OF PART 1**


	24. Scarlet Woman

Society wanted women like Naho to feel guilty over what they did in the dark cloak of night, but it was hard to feel such things in Zocho's presence. An artist could find beauty in the burns and leave even a marred arsonist feeling like a treasured goddess. He'd kneel before her, whisper prayers on those honeyed lips of his, and release promises of pleasured penance on the tip of his quivering, hungry tongue.

He dared to kiss and tantalize what her youthful folly disfigured for life because he knew how tender scorched earth could be. The nerves already experienced a fire so intense that Hell itself would turn envious, and yet they survived. Now every touch and caress from her lover's hands served as the great reward for her endurance.

She didn't love her husband or anything that even remotely dealt with him. Uchiha Tatsumi was a brute who took her to bed whenever he wished and they only had Kaede to show for it. And Kaede was all she'd ever give him. She wouldn't reward such abhorrent behavior with another living child. Instead, she'd pour her love into the generation to come after her daughter.

…well, that generation, a couple of other people, and this man.

Shimura Zocho's fingernails dragged across her bare chest lightly, causing nearby flesh to tense up and turn all the more tender to the touch. Her breathing hastened because as lovely as mere touch was, kisses made it even better.

"Why do you even _keep_ that dumpy little wife of yours?" Naho teased in his ear. She wanted to sound seductive, like one of those sultry tones she heard on her radio dramas from the Land of Smoke, but she couldn't.

As badly as she wished to mimic vocal velvet, years of blowing fire and smoke from her chest had ruined her lungs, throat, and mouth. She was hoarse: eternally sounding as though she were short of breath and on the verge of death. Her voice couldn't be loud anymore, not without great pain.

Her purrs were rasps, her whispers wheezes. As poised and elegant as she could paint herself up to be, she'd never be a nightingale. Naho was a grackle, squawking her cacophonous pleas for love.

And yet she knew what Zocho could say in his smooth low baritone would destroy her in only a few syllables. "You don't have to be _cruel_ about it, Naho. Michiko and I are dear friends. We have a lovely son. Surely you and your husband–"

"I hate him," she growled, curling up to him on the bed. "I'd kill him if I could." But there were some things even Kazusa would bring her to jail for. Murder was one of them. "I wish that I didn't have to share you. You're the only person in my life I chose for myself."

Everyone else was a choice made for her by those who reputed to know best. Her father selected Tatsumi as a match for her because of his wealth. He chose Kazusa as her closest companion only because she'd lead the clan someday. Such a friendship would be advantageous. "Do you have any idea how special that makes you?"

No one else even remotely comprehended the extent of her adoration. She chose to love this gorgeous man because she followed her heart. _Why_ didn't matter. It was her own private affair and if she played her cards right, she could do what her mother never could: and have both marriage _and_ love in a delicate balance.

Naho twisted herself out of the bed, rolling away so she could go and take a shower. Her timing was impeccable because she knew the boy came home at 7:00 PM. He'd be downstairs and talking to his mother—who, quite sadly, was painfully aware of her husband's slew of infidelities—about his mission soon.

"Hey, Zocho…don't you think it's sweet that our children are on the same team?"

Zocho laughed, turning over so he could light his pipe and blow a few smoke rings. "I'm not sure if I'd call it _sweet_ , Naho, but it's certainly convenient. At least we know where both of them are at all times."

…

Uchiha Kaede's fingers and feet were always cold, even in the summertime. This was why she always preferred to wear gloves. White ones, preferably. They looked more ladylike and it was a personal challenge to see how long she could go into a mission before they stained. And right now, those gloved hands carried grocery bags and art supplies.

To her left, Neyuki and his dog Ashimaru held a tiny bag of medical supplies. Mikuro carried the most, all in his messenger bag. This had nothing to do with the C-Rank they'd completed today (assisting with a body dump), but rather a joint effort on the part of the team to help the Shimura family.

Neither one of Mikuro's parents were in the best of health. Zocho wore a prosthetic leg and needed a cane to walk properly. To combat the pain, he maintained a steady diet of painkillers. Michiko, on the other hand, had heart trouble and mostly stayed at home to fight off her migraines. Since Mikuro had been a surprise late-in-life child, Zocho and Michiko were old enough to be his grandparents.

At first, Kaede felt immense disappointment upon realizing she wouldn't share a team with her cousin, but these boys grew on her. Neyuki was a sweetheart, even if he tried his best to be wild and fierce. He didn't limit himself to only dogs. Kazusa-taichou's feral cat colony always ended up claiming Neyuki's leftovers as he escorted her home–because that's what gentlemen did!

That's something she enjoyed about her teammates; they treated her like a _lady_ , not a burden. Mikuro sometimes put her on the spot and forced her to make a decision or a choice. Whenever she hesitated or froze, he only pushed her further. She'd grown much quicker in responding to such impromptu demands. Hesitation would fade away in time and she had that ambitious boy to thank.

This was the sort of relationship she wanted to have with Fugaku and it pained her to think Mikuro knew how to motivate her better than her own cousin did.

He made her brave, in other words. In time, he'd make her confident. She was fond of him, but Mikuro always insisted on keeping Kaede at an arm's length…and Kaede assumed she understood why.

He liked her best friend and wasn't all that good at hiding it. Mitsumi was that one person he couldn't work up the nerve to talk to for anything more than quick banter and snarky comebacks.

That wasn't why he was terse today. She'd find out the truth tonight, not that she realized it. "Is your mother doing any better, at least?" She wanted to ask. "She's so nice. I wish my mother was more like yours, Mikuro _-kun_."

Michiko was a sweet granny-like figure Kaede adored to no end. Her grandfather didn't inspire any warm or kind feelings from her, but this old woman did. Every time the trio returned from a mission and made a stop by Mikuro's home first, his mother would be there with a plate of fresh-baked cookies and a pot of tea.

So why did he avert his gaze when she said that? "Is everything alright?"

She didn't expect to see such an expression on her teammate's face, not since the time Nawaki insulted his father. That was six months ago.

"Mikuro _-kun_?" He took a deep breath, concerning her greatly when she realized how _shaky_ it was. His hands were trembling: something he only did when angry. "Mikuro _-kun_!"

"Neyuki, go home." The Inuzuka boy opened his mouth to give Mikuro his typical _fuck you_ , but he hesitated as soon as he saw Mikuro turn scarlet. It wasn't worth it to fight this time. The boy put the bags down outside the house and promptly left, grumbling something under his breath. "You really want to know what's wrong, Kaede?"

"Yes, I do; but why did you tell Neyuki _-kun_ to leave? You're being really rude."

Mikuro averted his gaze again, scowling. "This doesn't concern him."

"How can you say that? He's every bit as much a part of this team as _I_ am–"

"And if this didn't concern you, I'd tell you to butt out." He was direct and didn't mince words. _Ever_. She'd give him that much. "Come inside with me. I bet you anything she's still here."

"Your mother?"

"No."

All this secrecy wasn't like Mikuro. Kaede liked his abrasive directness, but worried deeply for him whenever he got like this. Was there something she could do to help? Maybe if she helped Michiko put on a pot of chamomile, things would fall into place and–

That _laugh_. She'd recognize her mother's hoarse and ugly laugh anywhere.

"What's…"

Why was she even here? And then she heard the second part: the low and sultry whispers coming from Mikuro's father.

"Are they–"

There was no point in even finishing the question. The humiliation ran rampant on her teammate's face. He was angry and ashamed. Kaede was speechless.

…

Zocho's boy knew. So did Kazusa's boy. And now her child knew the uncomfortable truth. She saw the rage in her daughter's damp eyes. Mikuro made the same face at her five years ago: the first time he caught her with his father. She picked up on so much hate in that boy every time they crossed paths. It was a blessing he didn't look at her daughter the same way.

"I can't believe you!" Kaede's voice came out as a surprisingly loud sob. When had she ever been this loud?

Naho reached to touch her daughter's wrist, only for Kaede to slap her hand with the fierceness of an angry cat. They wouldn't return home right away. Perhaps she could talk to the girl and reason with her.

And yet she felt concern. It could turn into a lesson in the futility of calming down an adolescent girl. Naho couldn't even argue that Kaede didn't know Zocho, because she did. The problem came in the fact that Kaede had been Mikuro's teammate for almost two years, but had known him well before then in Academy. She knew both of his parents.

Kaede trembled. Both her hands were clenched into fists, not that Naho thought her daughter had it in her to punch anyone.

"How long?" Judging from the way Kaede shook and sucked in her breath, trying her best not to sob openly, the girl wouldn't ease up any time soon. "How long have you been sneaking around? Does my father know?"

"No, but your cousin knows." There. That would shut her up. "The dead boy, too. Fugaku said he saw me leave the house once." The girl was stunned to silence, mouth agape. "I suppose it really says something if he couldn't be bothered to share such a juicy tidbit with you."

"Does _Kazusa-taichou_ know?"

' _Feeling feisty tonight. Aren't we, Kaede? And that smell…that smoky smell…am I imagining that, or is it real…?_ ' What Naho knew she hadn't imagined was the vindictive gleam in her child's eyes. ' _You want to tell on me, you little bitch._ '

"I don't understand you at all! You're both married! You have _families_! Mikuro _-kun_ 's apparently known about this for a long time and has had to put on a good face in front of me, Neyuki _-kun_ , and the whole village, even though…even…"

Kaede couldn't even articulate her frustration, she was so wound up. "How can you do this? How can you pour your heart out to that man and you can't even do that for my father? Or _me_!?"

"I try."

Kaede froze, staring up at her mother in disbelief. Those words were the coldest, most soul-crushing thing she could have heard from those bright red lips. It didn't end there. Naho had more words.

"But I'm sorry, Kaede. I can't force myself to love somebody. I fulfilled my filial duty to my father by marrying the man he wanted. I met my obligations as a wife and provided your father with one child. If anyone expects more, then…" She slowly shook her head. "You're too young to understand."

Kaede's mouth opened to say something more, but Naho held up a hand to silence her. "I know that you want to tell your father about the affair, but what do you think that will accomplish?" Her tone turned soft. "Kaede…you understand that if the wrong person finds out, this could _kill_ me?"

The girl narrowed her eyes.

"I mean it, Kaede. Say nothing."

…

' _My mother is a melodramatic narcissist. No part of me ever doubted that. She only thinks about herself. Everyone else is merely an afterthought…but Nawaki knew about her.'_

Kaede furiously scrubbed herself in the shower. Being alone with Naho for that long, being pressured to keep her mouth shut…it left her feeling disgusting from head to toe. She squirted more rose-scented shampoo into her hands, worked it into a lather, and ran it through her thick black curls.

' _Nawaki knew and he said nothing. I can at least understand Fugaku being quiet. My mother either backed him into a corner or threatened him somehow. Or maybe he kept his mouth shut because he was thinking of my feelings and wanted to spare me the shame. After all, why burden me with something like this and taint my relationship with one of my teammates?_ '

But Nawaki…

Nawaki died two weeks ago. Mitsumi had yet to leave the hospital. Fugaku barely left his house and refused to talk to anyone about the ordeal.

Kaede had tried. She'd gone over there several times and tried to be a comforting presence because, she'd liked Nawaki, too. He was such a sweet boy (or so she'd thought) and it would be a long time before people recovered from the loss. After all, he was the first kid from their Academy class to die.

Fugaku didn't want to talk to Kaede, but Naho kept making her go back. Even her grandfather was pushing her to go back. They were more interested in having her present to help him through this than she felt comfortable with and—

 ** _"I'm sorry, Kaede. I can't force myself to love somebody."_**

Naho's words reverberated in Kaede's head. She wanted to break something. ' _Why is it that everyone around me treats me like I'm made of glass?! Even Mikuro-kun…even cousin Fugaku…even Nawaki…'_

The water turned to steam before it even touched her skin, she was so furious. ' _Why won't_ _ **any**_ _of you open your hearts to me!? Am I really so horrible!?'_

She wanted to scream. _Smoke_ came out instead and the hoarsest, nastiest cough she'd ever uttered in her life left her lips.

Along with it came her first blue tongue of fire.


	25. Void

The Hidden Leaf understood the traumatic toll it took on a young shinobi to witness the gruesome death of a teammate. For a brief while, everyone offered their sympathies and condolences to the survivors. Once that grace period ended, people were expected to swallow the last bit of their grief and return to work as if nothing were the matter.

"Being a shinobi means having to endure." The Hokage allegedly took credit for those words, but it had been repeated as much as, "these things sometimes happen for no reason." Those words provided no comfort. Fugaku was tired of hearing them.

…

"It'll mean more if he hears it from you, Sarani." Perhaps she had a point. "You've had more losses in your life. You understand it better. Please…check on him? I'm worried."

Kazusa worried for days because her son barely left his room. He seldom ate and really only left for the occasional bathroom break. Kazusa leaned slightly down to give her husband's ponytail a light tug. "You have night shift today, so you know. Just remember to rest a bit before your shift starts so you're not a zombie by the time you get to work."

"Of course, dear. See you later."

Sarani turned his attention toward Fugaku's room, noticing the door remained closed. ' _Are you even awake_?' he pondered, reaching to gently slide it open. Just as expected, he could see his child lying on the bed, staring listlessly at the last birthday card his friend would ever give him.

"Hey," Sarani greeted him in a gentle, soft tone. "I thought you'd like to know it's a beautiful morning…"

The Third Hokage had granted both children two weeks to take time to grieve for their fallen comrade. That would be two uninterrupted weeks without missions or duties. In that time, some of Fugaku's friends wanted to visit. And each time, either Sarani or Kazusa had to break the bad news that he wasn't up for visitors.

Kaede brought flowers earlier. They had since withered and hung limply on Fugaku's dresser. He never touched them.

Tohru brought sweets. The box had a thin layer of dust on top of it. The seal had yet to be broken.

"You know what I heard?" Sarani tried again. "Mitsumi _-chan_ gets released from Konoha General Hospital today. I think it would do the both of you some good if you stopped by. You haven't left the house since… _you know…_ "

"…it's alright." It almost came as a relief to hear his child's voice again, but the despondence in Fugaku's tone left Sarani feeling uneasy. The boy rolled over to turn his attention to the ceiling. The fan spun in slow, lazy circles. "You can say Nawaki's name. It won't make him any less dead."

And that wouldn't have been the case, had he been paying better attention to him. ' _It wasn't Nawaki's fault.'_ He hadn't participated in the minefield mission. And it was his birthday. He was so eager to impress the team and do a good job that he turned reckless.

' _I should have asked him to protect Shinohara so I could take the dirty job. I should have told him not to pad his report. I_ _ **knew**_ _we weren't ready, but I let him do it anyway. I let him go. I'm responsible._ _ **I**_ _killed him.'_

His fingers grabbed the sheets tightly and he rolled over to face his father. "And I'll have to get used to it, right?"

Sarani frowned and sat at the foot of the bed, placing his hand on his son's knee. "I hate to say it, but _yes_. He's gone and nothing in the world is going to change that. But do you think lying around in bed is what he'd want to see you–"

"I don't know." Fugaku's voice cracked and he felt ashamed for allowing it to do that. "I'll just _go_." Though he dreaded the thought of being alone in the same room as Mitsumi, without anyone but Nawaki's ghost to accompany them.

Facing Mitsumi meant he'd have to face reality.

…

And yet he felt the need to make the effort. None of the blame fell on Mitsumi. She'd done her portion of the mission splendidly until all hell broke loose. She and Nawaki were even starting to get along by the end. Every friendship had its faulty points.

' _Right. I know we did. Didn't we, Nawaki?_ '

There was the time Nawaki made some snide remark at Mikuro's birthday gathering. Everyone gathered together for the first snow of the year and Fugaku's entire torso ended up scalded in hot tea. He'd beaten that boy black and blue for dragging him around like a security blanket.

' _I was an ass to you.'_

He'd made Nawaki cry that night; and Nawaki's first reaction when he saw Fugaku again was to meekly apologize and downplay his own feelings. All that boy ever wanted was to have the top kid from his class pay attention to him and be his friend.

He tried so hard, pouring his heart into every mission because each one brought him one step closer to protecting his grandfather's greatest treasure: this village. Nawaki loved every street, building, and person in Konoha–aside from maybe Mikuro. Maybe he had a little more growing up to do, but didn't they all? They were only twelve.

But from here on out, they'd all get bigger. Nawaki wouldn't.

Mitsumi's room was on the third floor of the building, on the far western corner. They set her up with a black and white television which she'd been watching inattentively for, according to the nurse, the past two hours without changing the channel. They assumed she went to sleep, but her big brown eyes were open.

Fugaku could relate. His friend probably felt too drained to put in enough effort to change anything. "Are you accepting visitors today, Shinohara?" He wanted to hear her say something, _anything._ Watching her lie there like the living dead left him wondering if that's how his parents saw him until he got up today. "I wanted to know how you're holding up."

"I can't do this anymore."

' _What?_ '

Mitsumi turned around so she wouldn't have to face him. She curled into the fetal position, trying to make herself into the tightest human ball possible. "First, it was my mother. Now it's my teammate. Maybe Hayabusa was right about me, Fugaku- _kun_. Maybe I'm not cut out for this."

Did she really want to give up because of this? Give it _all_ up? Mitsumi had always held her head high with pride over her cryptography and decoding skills. She was a remarkable problem-solver and could think her way out of any trap. Did she honestly think–

"Even _Orochimaru-taichou_ didn't think I was strong enough to handle the tougher part of that mission. If I'd worked faster, if I'd paid more attention to what Nawaki was doing, then…" She bit her lip and shook her head, quivering. "I was so _mean_ to him. I was so…so…" She couldn't even finish before the sobs came out.

Before he knew it, Mitsumi's freckled arms wrapped around him. He felt her cry into his neck and shoulder, tears sopping into the cloth of his charcoal gray shirt. She twisted her fingers into the fabric and nuzzled into him. "At least I never have to worry about you," she whispered. "You're strong. You'll be just fine without me."

But Fugaku didn't see it that way. "I just lost one teammate, Shinohara." He stroked her auburn hair, letting his fingers get lost in the long and wild waves. It was so rare to see her hair wild like that, considering how often she kept it in the twin braids. "Please don't make me lose you, too."

"I'm just gonna resign. I'll work with my dad and–" He hugged her even tighter. "Fugaku, I _can't_."

"Shinohara, I'm begging–"

"And I'm telling you I _can't_. I don't know why I ever thought I could."

…

Whether or not Mitsumi changed her mind, only time would tell. All Fugaku knew was that he couldn't stay in there. As much as it broke his heart to leave his friend to cry by herself, he couldn't take it.

All he wanted was to talk to somebody about Nawaki and have that person feel the way he felt. The most he could have hoped for was with Mitsumi, but she was too wrapped up in her own problems to think clearly.

Perhaps the best answer would have involved visiting Nawaki's home and talking with Tsunade. After all, she was his big sister. Who could have possibly loved him more? But it would mean he'd have to face her—not to mention Nawaki's mother and grandmother—when he couldn't so much as look them in the eye right now. He knew where the blame fell, and it wasn't on Orochimaru.

He had some nerve to even toy with the thought that he'd be worthy to visit Nawaki's family after letting that precious boy die. They hadn't burned him at the stake for getting into a fight with Nawaki, but this was worse, maybe even _unforgivable_.

If he saw Tsunade, he'd see the body all over again. He'd remember how warm and wet it was and how it didn't put up any resistance as he held it in his arms, screaming and shrieking into the night until he blacked out.

' _Tohru, maybe_. _Maybe I can talk to Tohru.._.'

After all, Tohru was another dear friend and someone he always held in high regard. He'd known Nawaki even longer and played with him since they were in diapers. Surely–

 **"If we do this again, I think I might want to partner up with Nawaki. Considering how loud he is and how easy he is to capture, I think I could use a good handicap. Don't you? What? You know I'm teasing, right?"**

 **"…I** ** _had_** **to invite him. My mother put me up to it. Nawaki-kun and I…I'm uncomfortable sometimes. It's history everywhere, you know?"**

' _That's right. I forgot. He wasn't fond of him, either.'_ And that perhaps was the most disheartening part. Wasn't there anyone he could talk to, or would he need to bottle everything up and pretend his feelings didn't exist?

Deep down, Utatane Tohru carried no love in his heart for Senju Nawaki. Passive aggressive animosity had reached critical mass somewhere down the line and Fugaku couldn't figure out why. Was it only because Nawaki's grandfather was the Shodaime Hokage and Tohru's mother had been one of the Nidaime's students?

Surely that couldn't be why he was so cold…

…

 **"** **I didn't mean to hurt** ** _you_** **. He insulted my–"**

 **"** **Nawaki was out of line.** ** _Both_** **of you were. Go home, Mikuro."**

 **"** **I didn't mean–** ** _fine._** **You're a big man, Nawaki, letting the** ** _real_** **ninjas do all the work."**

 **"** **Mikuro…"**

 **"** **I got it. I** ** _got_** **it. I'm leaving."**

 **As soon as Mikuro was nowhere near them, Nawaki blew a raspberry and threw his drink in the trash. "Why do we even invite that guy along to these things, anyway? He's a jerk."**

 **"** **We invite** ** _you_** **along…"**

…

In conclusion, even Utatane Tohru in all his gentle kindness wouldn't be able to fill that increasingly gnawing hole in the Uchiha boy's heart. Tohru and Nawaki's friendship was for face purposes only. Deep down, a confrontation with Tohru in regard to this matter would turn into a repeat of what Fugaku experienced with Mitsumi…only _he'd_ be Mitsumi.

It wasn't what he needed. It wasn't enough to hear _you poor thing_. Someone needed to sit there and go over the best memories with him. Perhaps his parents could, but–

They were at work. And the nagging memory of his mother's bewildered reaction to his biggest fight with his friend refused to dissipate. She'd shaken in terror, afraid the remnants of the Senju Clan would come after her son for daring to punch their little prince.

Kazusa would make it political. Sarani would patronize without meaning to.

With every name that crossed his mind, he realized even further how hopeless it was to think anyone could hear him out and understand. At least he could start making his way back toward the familiar part of town and be home by sundown.

' _There truly is no one I can talk to.'_

Not Sanjo. Not Yashiro. _No one_. They were either too jaded, didn't know Nawaki, or would judge him for the fact he cared this much about somebody carrying Senju blood in his veins.

He probably drenched himself in more Senju blood than anyone in his clan had managed to do in two generations, and he didn't even want it.

He just wanted his friend back.

' _You may as well admit it to yourself. There is probably nobody in the whole of this village, or this earth, who is going to be able to help. You're on your own._ ' This grief, as unbearable and unrelenting as it was, would need to be internalized. All his rumination would have to go on in silence, hidden behind a strong face.

 **"At least I never have to worry about** ** _you._** **You're** ** _strong_** **. You'll be fine without me."**

' _But I'm not. Don't you get it, Shinohara? I'm_ _ **not**_ _. My strength came out because I needed to be strong for someone else. And look where we ended up.'_

There before him were a set of trees in a nice courtyard. Each one spread its leafy branches proud and high, trying to soak up as much of the late August sun as was feasible. Those leaves were a lovely shade of green, catching the light and leaving small packets of sky between them.

And in another couple of months, they'd be gone, too. The trees would be about as bare as the boy's heart. "I'm sorry," he whispered, finding it hard to breathe. A large stone was in his throat, or so it felt. As he lay down and closed his eyes, he pretended he wasn't alone.

In his imagination, a hand reached out to hold his and gave a squeeze. **.**.or maybe a kick to his leg. Or maybe he'd roll over and pull him into a hug until Fugaku yelled at him to quit.

…

 **"It's one of the things we have to deal with as shinobi, Nawaki. Death happens."**

 **"Well, when I'm Hokage, I'm going to find a way to reduce the number of casualties. I'll train more medical ninja. I'll promote some of the smartest people I know to help me with better strategies. I'll–you aren't gonna fight me for the title, are you?"**

 **"Why? Are you worried I have a better shot at it than you do? Relax; they'd never name a clan head as Hokage again. I don't mind being your right-hand guy and helping you achieve that dream of yours."**

...

' _Sorry. I guess I stand a better chance than you do after all._ '

This village was fucked up. Who thought it was a good idea to let kids diffuse bombs? Or deliver severed heads to elderly psychic warlords? Or go away into foreign countries and decrypt classified information for a sleeper agent? Shouldn't _adults_ handle this?

Nawaki thought more medics would fix things, but Fugaku saw another problem. They released kids too early. Until it changed, the body count wouldn't go down. There'd be so many more Nawakis and only one or two people would mourn them each and every time.

It wasn't right. It wasn't _fair_. The two of them could have changed the world and now he'd have to go it alone. Even Mitsumi wanted to say goodbye. It was too much to bear, but at least no one was there. No one would see or notice that, at long last, the stone face had cracked.

The tears came out freely as he wrapped his arms around himself and let out every last ounce of anguish that built inside his body over the past two weeks.

It scared him, thinking how long he'd have left on his life before he died, too. What if he forgot Nawaki's face or the sound of his voice? What if the time eventually came where he didn't remember him at all? Or–

What happened next caught him by surprise. Another pair of arms wrapped around him, gentle and loving. A chin rested on his shoulder and gave his cheek a quick kiss.

"Don't cry, Fugaku- _nii_."

And that's when it dawned on him that not only had somebody seen him in his moment of weakness, but the witness to his despair was an Academy student. He turned around, held that little girl in his arms, and thanked her for caring.

It was too late for Nawaki, but it didn't have to be too late for Mikoto. He could watch over her like a hawk as she trained and climbed up the ranks. He could at least do that for every kid in his godforsaken clan until he had enough clout and power to do it on a larger scale.


	26. Confidante

It wasn't even a D-Rank. This was merely an excuse to leave the house and do something considerate for Mikoto's family.

Her father was the KMPF Medical Examiner, so he tended to work long hours at the morgue. Four evenings a week, her mother had a part time job and didn't come home until late. Normally, that meant Mikoto's older brother walked her home, but Yori apparently had more important things to do than bother.

Fugaku had originally agreed to meet his parents for lunch, but found it strange when Mikoto's mother was at the station. She was trying to convince her husband to pick up their daughter, seeing as the teacher wanted to send her home early for getting into a fight. It turned into a full argument, so Fugaku volunteered to go get the girl instead.

"I can't believe you beat up another kid. What's gotten into you?" Fugaku shook his head slowly, watching as Mikoto's face remained scarlet in annoyance. "That's not very ladylike, Mi- _chan_."

"Who cares?" She was seven years old, angry, and seething. Whenever something upset her to this level, Mikoto didn't walk; she stomped, scowled, and kicked up as much rainwater as she could with her white boots. "Inoichi pulled my hair. He had it coming."

Fugaku rolled his dark eyes. Yamanaka Inoichi was the kid Mikoto whined about the most, even though he belonged to the class below hers. Considering how much of an ass he and his peers had been toward the girls they liked in Academy, Fugaku couldn't help but shake the feeling that Inoichi only annoyed Mikoto in an attempt to get her attention.

"There's certain places on a boy you just don't kick."

Despite its asinine origin, Mikoto's disgruntled Academy drama proved to be a welcome break from Fugaku's new routine. With Mitsumi still too lost in self-doubt to return to duty, Fugaku opted to take as many solo missions as the village would allow over the past couple of months. A decent shinobi endured even when it hurt to do so. With Nawaki dead and Mitsumi refusing to continue, it meant he'd have to do enough missions for all three of them.

Sarani encouraged him to slow down. Kazusa didn't.

Truth be told, the work didn't bother him. If anything, keeping busy made it easier to focus on the present rather than dwell on his past failures. There was enough time to think about Nawaki and all the ways he'd wronged him in those final seconds every time he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Mikoto continued to splash mud with her boots, but she scooted closer to the older boy in an attempt to share the same umbrella. An early October breeze chilled her cheeks, so she pulled the hood of her raincoat up.

"I threw my bento at him, too," she confessed with mischievous, shameless glee. "Should I feel bad about it?"

"A little," he supposed. Mikoto's impish smile indicated otherwise. "Maybe Inoichi likes you. Did you ever consider that?"

"EW! BOYS ARE NASTY!" The little girl paused, looked up at her older friend, and her whole face turned sheepish. "Except you, I guess. _You're_ okay, Fugaku _-nii_."

It was the first time he'd laughed in weeks without having to force it. That only made the twinkle in Mikoto's eyes intensify. "I'm gonna get even." But hadn't she done that already? "Will you help me?"

Mikoto didn't need it. She already had everything under control–or at least as much so as a seven-year-old girl could manage.

Instead of immediately abandoning the child as soon as her house came into view, Fugaku made the additional effort to briefly help her with some of her more challenging homework. Of all the distractions he'd hoped to find since Nawaki's death, the younger kids in the clan were the greatest: _especially_ this one. She could be a brat sometimes, but at least she was a funny brat.

Not only that, but it was far too easy to tease her. All he had to do was insinuate she ran the risk of being put on a team with Yamanaka Inoichi and she shrieked in displeasure. That's when she swore up and down she'd have a girls-only team and they'd be the best ever. Somewhere into the rant, he stopped paying attention, but he could at least nod his head and grunt in acknowledgment. That was enough, right?

Considering Mikoto offered to split her snack with him on his way out, he supposed it was.

The mochi was gummy and a little too sweet for his tastes, but he'd taken a couple to be polite. As soon as there were at least three blocks between Mikoto's home and himself, he chucked the second sugary blob into a trashcan.

Silly girl. She didn't know what real problems looked like. Not yet.

Two blocks further away and he caught two familiar silhouettes in a back alley. Smoke passed through one shadow's lips. The other one held out a hand, gesturing for his friend to pass what looked like a hand-rolled cigarette. The edge glowed even brighter upon meeting lips once more, but the first shadow refused to share.

"Nuh-uh. No. You aren't picking this shit up, too. You're Kazusa- _taichou's_ favorite boy scout." Sanjo. That was _Sanjo!_ "She always compares me to you, man. It's _annoying_. It's always _Yashiro this, Yashiro that. Yashiro never fucks up_. What makes you so goddamn special?"

"That's just it. I'm _not_." Yashiro laughed a bit, still trying to convince Sanjo to hand over the cigarette. "Maybe if you didn't suck, Sanjo, she'd pat your back, too."

"You know what? Fuck you, pal. I'm telling her you smoke. You can't be the golden boy forever." And that's when he noticed a familiar pair of eyes observing him. "Shit. Now we're _both_ busted. _Hi_ , Fugaku." Sanjo stepped forward, leaving the shadows, and patted the twelve-year-old on the top of the head. "This thing you see? We're not doing it."

Up close, the distinctly skunky smell of the cigarette gave away what it really was. Fugaku wanted to gag. "What are you gonna do if she calls for a drug test?" And already, he could hear the nervous laughs intensify. Yashiro wasn't laughing, but his face turned pale.

"Sanjo says it calms his nerves," Yashiro explained. "I don't normally do this." Of course he didn't. He was quite possibly the most responsible and self-reliant teenager in the clan. "But I wanted to try."

"Why?" Were they taking on a particularly grisly mission? As a Homicide officer, Yashiro saw a lot of dead bodies. Sanjo saw another type of ugliness in Vice. Sanjo ended up slinking off rather than answering the boy's questions. "Yashiro, what's going on?"

Yashiro merely shook his head and sighed. "It isn't important. How about I walk you home?"

' _I just did that for Mi-chan_ ,' he wanted to say. He also wanted to remind Yashiro that he wasn't a baby. Instead, all he ended up doing was nodding his head.

"Do you think there's any chance I could go on a mission with you or Sanjo?" Fugaku asked. "Shinohara's serious about retiring."

It had been nearly two months, and she still refused to go on missions. She wouldn't even accept a D-Rank. Her nerves were too badly rattled and the mere thought of doing more than running basic errands left her in a crippling depressive fit the likes of which Fugaku was powerless to stop.

It broke his heart to think of his team as completely disbanded, but perhaps this was reality. Mitsumi didn't want to see him right now and probably never would again. And his other friends were caught up in their own lives. Perhaps now was the time to think about the clan and build more bonds within it.

"Is this really about missions, Fugaku?" Yashiro frowned, brow furrowed. "Or is this about Nawaki?"

Fugaku froze in place, stunned that somebody finally noticed. "I've…"

"When I was around your age, my uncle died."

Fugaku knew enough about Yashiro to know that his mother and father died when he was very little. His uncle stepped forward to raise him, but never told him anything about his parents. To make matters even more frustrating on Yashiro's front, no one at the KMPF dared to talk about Setsuna or Keiko, either. Not with Kazusa around.

"But considering how quiet everyone was when my parents died, I didn't think anyone would listen to me when I lost him, too."

' _I can relate,'_ Fugaku realized, staring down at his feet. "I'm sorry. Did anyone–" Judging from the small, sad smile on the older boy's face, Fugaku felt he already had the answer.

"When nobody else wanted to step up, your parents did. Kazusa- _taichou_ decided to personally train me after that. Thanks to her, I became even stronger. And your father is a good man, perhaps one of the best in the clan. If I ever needed someone, even if only to _listen_ …Sarani- _sama_ was always there."

He could feel Yashiro's hand on his shoulder: supportive and sympathetic. "I didn't know your friend, but I can tell how much he meant to you. I know sometimes it helps to have somebody to talk to."

Yes. Fugaku couldn't have possibly agreed more. This whole time, he bottled up his feelings and let them stew inside because nobody understood or even wanted to hear it. Yet here, standing before him, was an older boy: a distant cousin somehow who barely spent time with him before. That cousin cared so much.

"I want to give you what your parents gave me. I can always be your open ear, Fugaku. Always."

…

"I'm not cut out for this. I don't even know what I'm doing."

And yet there was no other person in the clan he trusted with his secrets as much as this one. Time and again, Yashiro had been there to hear Fugaku at his most vulnerable and questioning moments.

Twenty. _Twenty_. He'd only just turned old enough to drink, and yet the village expected him to take over and properly lead his clan.

The death of his parents still felt fresh and raw. At least there was confirmation that his mother died quickly. His father's body was still unaccounted for, but the likelihood of Uchiha Sarani surviving at the hands of the Mugen Tribe for that long was nothing short of impossible.

' _They were only in their early fifties_ ,' he realized. ' _Their anniversary was next week._ ' Mikoto, Kaede, and some of the other girls from the clan came by to offer food, condolences, and flowers.

Considering what an impact Kazusa had on some of his friends outside the clan, Tohru and Mitsumi had also stopped by. Mitsumi even pulled him into a tight hug and cried enough for the both of them. It was like losing another mother all over again.

Already, he could hear the unsure whispers of the older men and women of the Uchiha Clan. Twenty was far too young to have this much responsibility. ' _I'm going to fail. And if I do that, I don't fail only myself. I'll fail them, too._ '

Every choice he made would be placed under a microscope. Who would he marry? Would he have any children? Would the children be strong and capable of leading this family someday?

"But I'll think of something. I always do…"

He'd do what was best for the group, even if it meant he had to do without. Such was the cost of being a leader.

"Just… _don't_ tell them I'm having doubts, Yashiro. They don't deserve to see that."

Yashiro leaned against the wall, shrugged, and took a slow drag from his cigarette. Briefly, he offered it to the younger man. "For your nerves," he insisted.


	27. We Three Musketeers

They stood together, a trio of decorated _jōnin_ from the Search and Destroy squads. To his left stood Akimichi Iwao: _the Human Tank_. To his right, towering over both Iwao and himself, was Aburame Buyo: the _Death Swarm_. These men were his first and only team, not to mention his longest lasting friends outside of the clan. Their mentor had since passed away, but she died honorably.

Although Sarani spent most of his missions with the Konohagakure Military Police Force ever since the division was first instated, Iwao and Buyo still pulled him into S&D whenever the need called for it. This time, it appeared that even the Konoha Council felt it necessary to bring him along.

Their target, Yūhi Ryusuke, was a fifteen-year-old chūnin who panicked the instant he saw enemy ninjas and left his team for dead. It was bad enough when a shinobi defected during peace time, but having the offense occur during war time made it all the more grave. He could leak secrets if captured and tortured, or he could turn to the other side of his own volition.

These men knew the drill. They'd silenced people in the First Great Shinobi War and already needed to do it twice in this new one. There were other S&D squads, but the ANBU took the lion's share of those missions.

The Sandaime and the Council weren't that much younger than Sarani and his squad. They were all first generation children of this village, albeit from different clans. This was perhaps why they were able to discuss on a more frank, informal level about this great offense.

"I can't even begin to tell you how disappointed I am that this happened," the Sandaime admitted, taking a long drag from his pipe. "Ryusuke seemed like the perfect choice for this mission. He had a background in decryption and managed to recover stolen artifacts for us before. On paper, he seemed ready."

A low grunt came from Shimura Danzō's throat. "And yet his cowardice cost his teammates their lives and our village at least three weeks' worth of recovery time. We'll need to brief another team and try again. War turns perfectly qualified people into cowards when they don't have the stomach for it."

Sarani stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. "Did the Yūhi Clan already sanction the disposal, Sandaime? I don't want to accidentally slight them." In this regard, his comrades in arms were fortunate. They didn't marry a clan head. Every action they performed wasn't viewed under a political microscope.

"Don't worry, Sarani. It's been sanctioned," Utatane Koharu responded, handing over the envelope. "There's no need to bring Yūhi Ryusuke back alive. There isn't even a need to bring the entire corpse. Not for this big of a violation. We're merely requesting evidence that Ryusuke is dead and, in fact, _Ryusuke_."

"That's doable," Iwao huffed, giving a bow before the Council. "We'll find him and we'll take him out."

…

They sat around the campfire together, waiting for their rations to heat up. "Leave it to you to tell us what plants and roots are edible, Sarani!" Iwao grinned like a hungry animal and nudged the small Uchiha man. "Do you ever make your kid eat this stuff?"

" _Make_ him? No. But I've taught him what he can eat in an emergency if he's ever stranded. It's a good skill to know." Though everyone here remembered how Sarani learned these things in the first place. Out of the three of them, his family had been the worst off. His small frame and short stature were lingering proof of the malnutrition he'd experienced in his youth. "His first team accidentally lost him in Koyamagakure."

"Oh dear." The big Akimichi scooted closer to his friend, trying to stifle a laugh. "There's worse places to get lost. Koyamagakure's full of beautiful women!"

"Correction: _loose_ women," Buyo chimed in, poking at the pot with a stick. Something wriggled on his back, but the others knew by now how dangerous it was to swat at his hive.

Iwao went quiet and scooted a bit further away from his Aburame friend. He cleared his throat and nudged his Uchiha comrade playfully, just as they'd done since they were a trio of reckless boys. "Point is, Sarani, your boy's one lucky little bastard."

Sarani glanced down, the flames flickering and reflecting off his glasses. "Not right now, he isn't. You heard about what happened to his teammate, right?" And with that, the loud and boisterous _Human Tank_ turned somber. "He's experiencing a loss I've never faced." The loss of a teammate. "I count myself fortunate that the three of us defied all odds. Here we are, in our forties, and we're all still alive and well. Two of us married and have families of our own."

"And speaking of that, Momoko's turning twenty this year!" Iwao guffawed. "She's already moved into her first apartment!" But it wasn't lost on Sarani. Had tragedy never struck his family, his first son would have been the same age as Momoko.

…

 **"I swear you spend more time with him than I do!" Kazusa rolled her eyes and went back to glancing over her long stack of reports. "So, what are you doing with Keita today?"**

 **She was still trying to figure out what sort of mother she wanted to be. Sarani was doing the same as a father. This was new for both of them, but neither one planned on leaving their son an only child.**

 **"Well…" Sarani couldn't help but internally squeal with glee when his son's tiny fingers curled around his thumb. The baby started to suckle it, nestling his head of dark brown fluff against Sarani's thin chest. "Iwao's back from his mission and has a few days off. He wanted to see if I'd be interested in setting up a play date with Keita and Momoko."**

 **"Ah. Akimichi Momoko: the 25 kilo bundle of joy. Don't let me stop you." Kazusa leaned forward, taking off her sunglasses long enough for him to see those dark and passionate eyes of hers. She kissed him, playfully humming as she did so. "I know he's one of your best friends and you'll both be thrilled when Buyo has a little roly-poly of his own."**

…

The plan had been to have their kids grow up together and be friends, but Momoko was old enough to be Fugaku's babysitter and not exactly anyone he'd want to be around. The only Uchiha she'd grown to fancy was _Sanjo_ , awkwardly enough. Now Sanjo was Iwao's greatest headache and Sarani had to hear every word of it.

"Does she have a roommate?"

Iwao laughed even harder. "Hell no! I raised a strong independent woman who doesn't need a roommate to make ends meet! Though, uh…she still wants to visit us and demands leftovers every time. And full use of our laundry room."

"You should be proud of her. She's a delightful girl." Though not as delightful as his son. "My boy…he's only a couple of years younger than the boy we're tracking down." The boy they were going to _execute_. "And yet…"

Buyo pulled the lid off the pot and reached for the ladle. "It's alright, buddy. I've got it," Iwao insisted. "No. I _insist_ , Buyo. I don't want one of your bugs in the food."

…

 **Ever since their first introductions as a team, both the Uchiha boy and the Akimichi boy found it difficult to stop staring at their Aburame companion. "What do you think's under his shirt?" Iwao whispered, placing one of his big hands on Sarani's back. "Speaking of,** ** _you_** **really need to eat more. I can feel your spine."**

 **"I would if I could, Iwao." His whole family had to survive off what little they could grow, forage, and catch. It wasn't much.**

 **"That's it. After we're done today, you're having dinner with my family." Iwao wanted to go out of his way to be his new best friend, Sarani figured. Somehow, he was fine with that. Buyo seemed nice, too.**

 **It was his first time really getting to spend long periods of time with kids outside of his clan. His parents prayed the village wouldn't fail and the best way to prove Hashirama and Madara's goal worked was through the children. If he could bond with these two boys and make it last a lifetime, they'd embody everything this village was meant to be.**

 **"I'd like that very much," Sarani insisted. It meant his family wouldn't have to worry about him for one meal, and maybe he could save a little extra for Yasashī. "Buyo, too?"**

 **But Iwao wasn't paying attention to that anymore. His eyes were once again transfixed on Buyo's wriggling back. "Let's pull one out," Iwao whispered to his new friend as he grinned wickedly. He tiptoed closer, wondering if he could slide Buyo's turtleneck down far enough to– "OH GOD."**

 **Both boys shrieked in disgust and pre-teen amusement because that was quite possibly the largest, fattest, ugliest, most** ** _disgusting_** **maggot they'd ever set eyes on. Buyo's flesh was pale, save for the redness surrounding the wriggling larva. The Aburame turned around to face his new teammates and pulled his shirt collar down so they could see about four more.**

 **"Ewwwwwww! That's so NASTY!" Iwao yelped, but he couldn't hide his fascination. Neither could Sarani, who found himself speechless and (quite rudely) gawking. "What** ** _is_** **that?!"**

 **The Aburame boy smirked at that, knowing he had his teammates' attention for the first time. He wanted to bask in it. "Botflies.** ** _Dermatobia hominis_** **. I see your hand, Iwao. Don't pull it."**

 **"Why?"**

 **"Pull it out incorrectly and you'll kill me."**

 **They were already in awe, wanting to stare at these nasty things in all their gross glory. What eleven-year-old boy wouldn't?**

…

Those first few missions had been awkward, but there were no other men in the world Sarani would exchange his teammates for. Time and again, they'd saved each other and even their sensei. Together, they silenced more deserters and escaped prisoners than any other team on village record.

Yūhi Ryusuke would merely be another statistic, increasing each of their confirmed kills records by one point. It would be best not to think about what his family would go through or even dwell on his age. Iwao's daughter was older, Sarani's son younger. And yet both of them were chūnin, just like Ryusuke.

"You ever gonna settle down and marry, Buyo?" Iwao asked as he poured soup into four equal bowls: one for each of his comrades and two for himself. "We're _waiting_."

The Aburame man shook his head and took a moment to scratch an itch behind his right ear. "I'm doing something else," he admitted. "Junko- _sensei's_ sister approached me. She asked if I'd be interested in training her boys. I said yes."

"Aaaaaah. So you'll be a sensei to…wait. Are you talking about the clan head's children?" Sarani swallowed his soup slowly as Buyo nodded in silence. "So your students…"

"Yes. One's an heir, like your kid."

' _I see. One of those boys will have a whole world of hardship placed on his shoulders, just because of who his parents are.'_ But if anyone would do those boys justice as a mentor, Sarani felt the Hyūga family couldn't possibly choose anyone better than Buyo.

"Who's teaching your son, old friend?"

Staring down at his soup, squinting to see how much lemongrass Iwao used to flavor it, Sarani slowly shook his head. "My boy was cheated out of a mentor. The village didn't even see fit to give him a full team until more children graduated. He shared with nobody but Shinohara Kinzo's daughter for nearly a year."

Iwao sat beside him, brow furrowed. "I thought you said the Shodaime's grandson was on his team."

"I did. He was. He came later…and he died." And Fugaku was tearing himself to shreds over it. "The girl blames herself. My son blames himself. Lady Mito and her family blame the both of them. And now, like I said, the village thinks he may be ready to join the rest of his family and serve the village as we do. He's…"

' _He's breaking my heart. I hear him crying in the other room, even though he swears he isn't doing that and puts on a good face for his mother and me. He sleeps a lot and hasn't made much effort to reconnect with his other friends. He's withdrawing, turning to the clan and no one else. He's missing out on so much and there's nothing I can give him to make things better.'_

All his child wanted to do was lie in his room with Nawaki's ghost, apologizing to it for being such a reckless friend. It wasn't healthy. It–

Buyo shot straight up as soon as he heard a crackling of branches. He threw a kunai, only to trigger a downpour of sharp metal in response. They were under attack. The pot lost its balance and the soup's contents put out the fire.

"Son of a bitch!" Iwao growled along with a string of other choice words. Nothing pissed him off more than spilling food. "I was going to eat that! Hey, Sarani. Flash those fancy eyes of yours and tell us what we're up against!" The next string of weapons launched, this time with explosive tags to separate the trio.

"He's alone," Sarani quickly noted. "His chakra's not at peak conditions. I think we found our guy!" A rapid set of hand signs left him breathing the largest fireball possible, incinerating everything in its path. Trees turned into kindling and spread even faster once he threw one of Iwao's full sake bottles into the flames. An explosion went off before Iwao could even swear at him. "Is the path cleared enough for you to mow him down?"

Nothing could stop the Human Tank once he started. Iwao could crush anything that landed in his path as he expanded and rolled, showing the true force and might of his proud clan. Burning trees were knocked down, but his greatest skill in all this was a diversion.

For the portions of land still forested and had yet to feel the licking of Sarani's flames, the Uchiha and Aburame chose to hide together. "He's nearby," Buyo whispered, placing a hand over Sarani's mouth. "On the count of–"

A large rush of wind came at them and it became apparent something had done the unthinkable and popped their teammate. Iwao hit the ground, writhing in agony as he tried to fight the painful side of recovering from a mass inflation. Sarani couldn't rush over there, but he caught a gleam of something against the fire. "…piano wire." Their opponent set up _traps_. "We'll have to be careful to miss it."

Buyo removed his shirt, gesturing for Sarani to cover himself and step aside. The Aburame man's back had turned purplish with age, infested and threatening to burst with the hungry children of his parasitic flies. The smell alone was putrid. Watching as adolescent and adult botflies unleashed themselves from their Aburame host was enough for Sarani to lose his appetite…and his dinner.

The screams only made it worse. Once the botflies took to action, chasing after their target, Sarani heard the young man shriek and stumble. He'd run in a panic, accidentally cutting the front of his left leg with the wire. There was no place to hide from the infernal glow of the torched forest. Not this time.

When the boy tried to get away, Sarani threw one shuriken, lodging it in the boy's Achilles tendon. Any attempts to run would now be futile. "You okay, Iwao?" he yelled. "We got him." Iwao lifted one arm and waved a rude hand gesture toward his team. "…he's alright, Buyo."

"You assholes stole my booze. That's _low_ ," Iwao growled, rolling over so he could at least chuck another kunai at their new prisoner. The boy tried to fight back, but his whole body shook in pain and terror.

Sarani stepped closer, even after Buyo paused. Now was the time for answers and to find out precisely why their target committed treason. "Yūhi Ryusuke." The Uchiha man squatted to sit beside the boy, pinning both hands to the ground. The legs weren't an issue with one so badly mangled. "Do you know why we're here?"

As soon as the boy locked eyes with him, he couldn't look away. Ryusuke murmured his confession to what he'd done, begging for forgiveness. He was only fifteen, after all. It was his first time as a legitimate squad leader with anything more than a C-Rank.

He thought he was ready, that a B-Rank was within his capability to perform for the betterment of their hidden village, but there were too many. As soon as he saw the sheer number of enemy ninjas near him, he realized the mission could only end in suicide…and wasn't _fifteen_ too young of an age to die?

He trembled in Sarani's grasp, wrists and the whole of his young body quivering in terror because he knew these men would show no mercy. They'd come to kill him because he could no longer be trusted. He hadn't defected, but he'd deserted. Either defense merited execution by the statutes in place within Konohagakure law.

' _My child's only three years younger than you,'_ Sarani thought. ' _You share the same rank.'_ And this village assured him that his child was capable of missions such as these. They valued him at that rank, insistent that a twelve-year-old was perfectly capable to go out into the night and bomb an enemy village's hidden camp.

This wasn't right. Surely his boy was bomb-shy after what happened to Nawaki. He couldn't even bring himself to get out of bed for a few days. They…if they could expect a shivering ball of nerves like this Yūhi boy to perform such a task…

"P-please…" Ryusuke begged, fat tears falling from his pale face. "I was scared. I just needed more time. I didn't mean for the others to die. I thought they'd go right behind me! Don't… _don't_ …"

"…sorry. An order is an order." They only needed his identification card to prove they found him. That and maybe one personal effect. The ring on his right hand would do. Sarani slipped it off the hand, trying to mute the sobs coming from the boy. "We'll tell your parents we found you."

Buyo stepped forward, shirtless and terrible. His long dreadlocks swayed as he walked, slapping against his knees whenever he stopped. Sarani placed his hands over the Yūhi boy's mouth and held him in place so his teammate could let the flies get to work.

…

That boy was reduced to a skeleton in no more than twenty minutes. The bones were in a bag, ready to be returned to their home village.

"I want to get home as soon as possible," Sarani confessed. "I want to see my boy."

He couldn't stop staring at his hands. Ryusuke bit him in an attempt to free those hands from his mouth, but Sarani hadn't budged.

" _That's_ your first priority? Mine's going to a hospital because I think these stitches aren't very sanitary." Iwao poked at the bandage, cringing as it turned red. Buyo muttered that he tried and Iwao should shut up. At least he'd covered up again.

They stopped somewhere for a quick bite to eat. It was already daybreak. Once he stepped foot in the village again, he'd go home first and try to cook breakfast for his wife and son. He'd rest after Kazusa returned to work and promise to report back for duty after catching up on his sleep.

Every time they did one of these, the first thing he always wished to do was hold his child. Fugaku was too big for that now, but he _definitely_ wasn't big enough to take on missions like Ryusuke's.

"Hey. Sarani? You alright, friend?" Iwao patted his back, still internally concerned by how _thin_ his comrade was. "The mission was a success. Yeah, I took a blow, but we'll all live to see another day."

"…I just want to make sure my son does, too. He's too young for this." And there they had it. They could hear every last drop of dread in his voice. "Buyo?" The Aburame turned his head, mouth wrapped around the straw of his drink. "Is there a vacant spot on your team? I have an idea I want to run by you…"


	28. Jealous Gemini

**Author's Notes** : Thank you for reading the _Vines_ series up to this point. This next chapter, _Jealous Gemini_ , is the point where more familiar canon characters will start to appear and trickle into the main storyline.

I hope you enjoyed Nawaki's arc, and hope that reading more about the Hyūga twins (who are actually major characters in this series) will compel you to continue reading.

You have been wonderful readers and I count myself as very blessed to be entertaining you. I love writing for readers like you.

…

"Face it, son. Mitsumi's not changing her mind about that resignation. Your team's gone."

All Kazusa wanted was to throw some good news her child's way, though she was struggling to find any. Between losing one teammate and the other one deciding she wasn't cut out to be a shinobi anymore, Fugaku truly was an island.

Fugaku poked at his steamed fish, not even bothering to glance up at his mother. He reached for the steaming hot cup of tea and sipped it slowly. "Maybe I can start taking more missions with the rest of the clan," he proposed. "You said it yourself. I don't have a team anymore."

The last time he visited the Shinohara home, it quickly turned into a shouting match. Fugaku made a remark about how he'd still be there if Mitsumi changed her mind. Mitsumi's response involved pushing him and firmly insisting that she was serious about quitting. He wanted his friend back, but all she wanted was to be left in peace.

Sarani placed a piece of fish in his mouth and huffed out a faint sigh. "Fugaku, you'll be permanently tethered to the KMPF soon enough. Then you'll have all the time in the world to go on missions with Yashiro, Sanjo, and everyone else. Don't be in such a rush to get there. Take your time. Live a little."

That last statement left his hand shaking in frustration, making it difficult to hold his chopsticks. "…yes, _otou-san._ Whatever you say."

His tone sounded resigned, which wasn't what Sarani hoped to hear. He turned to face his wife, choosing to ignore how much of her mouth was stuffed with rice and fish. She could be such a glutton sometimes. Everyone else would sit there and savor the taste of the food, but not Kazusa. She inhaled her meals, barely tasting them at all.

"Maybe I can join one of Kaede's uncles on a sabotage mission," Fugaku offered. "Those pay nicely and Muraki- _oji_ seems nice enough. Besides, maybe it'd be good to do something that'll put us closer to stopping this awful–"

"I'm not putting you in harm's way until I trust you not to blow yourself up," Kazusa interrupted. "You're depressed."

"My _best friend_ died!"

It didn't even sink in that he'd come to think of Nawaki as his _best_ friend until after he lost him. Sure, Tohru was great and all, but Nawaki somehow managed to worm his way deeper into the Uchiha boy's heart. He also succeeded in taking a huge part of that heart with him when he died. The grief still felt too intense for him to believe that part would return to him. It felt gone forever.

"And you're just like me in this regard. When I'm upset, I throw myself into my work. The harder it is, the less I have to feel. That's what you've been doing, isn't it?" Yes, it was. She had him all figured out and Fugaku felt ashamed that he'd been so transparent. "We had an idea, if you wish to hear it."

"Sure. Why not?" Fugaku grumbled. Nothing would make him feel better, but maybe his parents had some great idea on what could at least make everything feel tolerable again.

"The Hyūga Clan's heir apparent and his twin brother recently became genin," Sarani remarked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Their jōnin mentor, Aburame Buyo, is a close friend of mine, not to mention my old teammate. He mentioned that he only agreed to take the twins, meaning he has a vacancy on the team. I mentioned your situation, and he's amenable to taking you. Are you interested?"

"I—"

"Buyo's a very talented jōnin, Fugaku, and he's taking that squad leader position permanently. You didn't have one of those with Nawaki and Mitsumi. This will feel more like a real team."

' _Nawaki and Mitsumi_ _ **were**_ _a real team_ ,' Fugaku thought bitterly. ' _And if we had more time, we could have been the greatest.'_

They hadn't needed a sensei, he felt, especially after his promotion. Lately, however, he felt more like a child than ever before: as if he were nothing more than an incompetent boy playing dress-up in a chūnin vest. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take a step back and focus on building a new set of bonds, especially under the tutelage of one of his father's friends.

"How old are they?" Fugaku already felt resigned to this idea. Whether he wanted it or not, his parents would push for it, considering how much clout and influence the Hyūga Clan carried. He may as well give them what they wanted. "They aren't little kids, are they?"

That gleam in Sarani's hopeful eyes only grew. "Hiashi and Hizashi aren't that much younger than you. I've met the boys before. I think you'll like them."

"Besides, it's super important that you like Hiashi." Kazusa stuffed her face with a steamed red bean bun and smirked. "If the Hyūga heir wants to be your friend, _go for it_. They have more money than we do."

"Kazusa, you're…" Sarani sighed, slowly shaking his head. "You are so _transparent_ sometimes. I was only suggesting this because Buyo made the offer." She swallowed and made a playful face at him. "So, how about it, son? How would you–"

"It's worth a _try,_ I guess…?"

…

Fugaku couldn't help but shake the feeling that he'd taken a huge leap backwards to agree to work alongside two lesser experienced kids. Just how green would they be? He'd be starting over, and it left him wondering how much this would set him back. What if Kaede's team caught up to him because he'd be wasting all his precious time on D-Ranks?

He hadn't gone into this totally blind. The village bent over backwards to accommodate the Hyūga Clan. They were affluent, highly respected, and no one wanted to be on their bad side. Yashiro had even made remarks before that the Uchiha Clan were expected to turn a blind eye to anything ugly going on within the Hyūga district.

…which was precisely where he'd been instructed to meet the twins and his new mentor: a lanky Aburame man with a rather impressive set of dreadlocks. The twins were late—which Fugaku made a passive-aggressive mental note of—but at least Buyo was present.

"You're Uchiha Fugaku? Sarani's son?"

"Yes, sir." Fugaku gave a polite bow. "I apologize. My father says you two are friends, but I've never met you before."

"We used to work together on hostage negotiation and Search & Destroy missions."

In short, Buyo was a bounty hunter. That immediately caught Fugaku's attention and left him feeling a tiny bit more excited than he originally anticipated being.

"Are we going to do one of those!?" He could be hopeful. Buyo quickly crushed that hope by shaking his head. "That sounds _amazing_ , though! You hunt down rogue ninjas and execute them. Isn't that ANBU-level work?"

"Not always," Buyo admitted. "They don't send ANBU out to handle lower-level fugitives, especially not during war time." Most of the people he handled were shell-shocked shinobi who wanted to defect from the war rather than continue. "You're a chūnin, right?"

Fugaku nodded. "But my original teammates were both genin. We didn't have a permanent jōnin squad leader, so we only managed a couple of C-Ranks. I'm interested in doing more."

"Someday, maybe. But Hiashi and Hizashi are neophytes." When Fugaku blinked slowly, clearly unfamiliar with that word, Buyo reiterated. "Newbies."

"I want the experience," he chose to confide. "That and my parents really pushed for it." They wanted him to grow and build some long-lasting bonds. The village cheated him out of a "real" team once before. This was as close as he'd probably ever get. "I'm looking forward to working with you, _Buyo-sensei_."

Buyo said nothing in response. He merely nodded and rubbed the fabric on his right sleeve. Something squirmed underneath.

Honestly, Buyo didn't have to talk, considering Fugaku spotted a pair of eleven-year-olds rushing toward them. ' _Oh, great. They're doing that obnoxious thing where they dress alike._ ' He was already annoyed.

They appeared to be racing each other. One boy tripped the other, leaving his twin behind to hit the ground and scuff his clean face against the rocky earth.

"Hey!" This was uncalled for. Fugaku didn't know these boys, but he quickly made his way over to the fallen twin. "Are you alright?" The boy waved an arm at him to indicate he'd get up by himself and gave Fugaku a small, frustrated grimace.

The unscathed twin (not to mention the little cheater who won the race by playing dirty) stepped closer to Fugaku. "What's wrong, Uchiha-san? You don't play rough with the kids in your clan?"

That did _not_ look like playing.

The Hyūga boy then held out his hand expectantly. "I'm Hiashi. Hizashi's fine. Aren't you, Hizashi?"

Hizashi made it back to his feet and brushed himself off. He also plucked a lodged piece of gravel off his face. Fugaku heard the boy grumble something that sounded very much like a couple of choice profane words, but he nodded.

Fugaku's initial impressions of the twins weren't flattering. Hiashi seemed like an asshole and Hizashi seemed like a doormat. At least Buyo appeared to have the patience needed to handle such an energetic pair. Then again, was that so much of a shock? If he was his father's friend, then maybe they'd share a similar temperament.

Just as soon as Hiashi's attention turned elsewhere, Hizashi reached for a rock and appeared to be contemplating chucking it at his twin. "Go for it," Fugaku whispered in the boy's ear. "He deserves it. He tripped you."

"He's family," Hizashi responded with a resigned, frustrated laugh as he put the rock back down. The brief fleeting glimpse of anxiety on the boy's face didn't go unnoticed. "Sometimes brothers do that. Do you have a brother, Uchiha _-san_?"

"I'm an only child, and it's alright, Hizashi- _san_. You don't have to be so formal with me." Though he now suspected Hizashi started doing it because Hiashi was being formal. "I'm Uchiha Fugaku, your new teammate."

"The Police Chief's son? That makes you the next in line to lead the Uchiha Clan, doesn't it?" Hizashi sounded simultaneously impressed and disappointed. "…I see. So you're an heir apparent like my brother."

"Why should that make any difference? I judge people by how they treat others, _not_ by their title." If he could trade partners during practice battles and get along with a prick like Shimura Mikuro, then he could work with anyone.

The hell did this kid think he was going to do: get cozy with Hiashi and gang up on him? _Please_. Hyūga Hiashi was just like everyone else in this world; he'd have to earn Fugaku's friendship. "I'd like to get along with the both of you."

"I'd like that, too," Hizashi admitted sheepishly.

"Excuse me. Buyo-sensei?" Hiashi was still trying to sound overly formal. The more he talked, the more Fugaku couldn't shake the feeling this kid wanted to put on airs and sound more mature than he actually was. "What is our mission for today?"

…

It didn't matter. One mission, _eleven_ missions. One thing always remained the same and Fugaku felt the heat in his blood every bit as intensely as he did the first time a classmate slighted him.

The twins were remarkably good with Taijutsu, especially the Gentle Fist moves passed within their clan. As a result, Fugaku's own physical moves had to catch up in order to match them. Despite being genin, both boys were formidable opponents and worthy of his respect. They'd climb the ranks quickly.

And yet only one of them had proven worthy of Fugaku's respect and friendship. Hiashi treated his twin like a subordinate. Hizashi gave up his favorite part of his lunch because his spoiled brother was still hungry. He carried Hiashi's things at the end of the day because Hiashi was too tired to do so. If Hiashi yelled at his brother, Hizashi merely stood there, took it, and murmured the same things.

 _Yes. Of course. You're right. I apologize, Hiashi-sama._

But right below Hizashi's calm surface, Fugaku saw a soul every bit as angry as his own. Hizashi clearly wanted to punch his brother in the face and fight back but chose to swallow his anger rather than unleash it. Maybe that was why Fugaku grew to only like the younger twin.

Despite his best efforts to not play favorites, and despite what his mother wanted to happen, Fugaku couldn't bring himself to like Hiashi. Was he a formidable opponent and capable of doing a good job during a mission? Yes. Was he a valid contributor to the team? Absolutely. Would he grow up to be a very powerful shinobi someday and someone Fugaku could tolerate for public graces in the future? Undeniably so.

But tolerance was a far cry from camaraderie.

"I'm not even sure if Hizashi- _kun's_ father will permit him to come without his brother," Sarani sighed, laying out a second futon. They had a third one in storage somewhere, just in case Hiashi showed up. "Your mother wanted to know if it would kill you to have them both over here. You'll have to negotiate and conduct business with Hiashi _-kun_ someday, not his brother."

"I know that, but that doesn't mean I have to do it _right now_ , does it? I only invited Hizashi," Fugaku growled. "Why does everything have to turn political with you two? Can't you just be happy that I made a new friend?"

Honestly, he never expected he'd have as much in common with that boy as he did. The handful of times Hiashi stayed at home to train and Hizashi came to complete a mission without him, he and Fugaku had a grand time.

He'd never managed to coordinate his moves so well with a teammate before. Perhaps a part of it came from the fact he now had the sharingan, but he couldn't pin it all on his dōjutsu. The fact of the matter was Hizashi was a remarkable coordinator, capable of filling in the gaps of any strategy Fugaku proposed. They'd even taken _Buyo-sensei_ down together once.

"We're _very_ happy. It's just–"

"You guys did the same thing every time I invited Nawaki over," he murmured, trying to do some last minute clean-up around the house.

The Hyūga estate was one of the loveliest and most affluent in the whole of the village. The clan head, Taiyō, lived in luxurious quarters with beautiful gardens and private ponds. By comparison, Kazusa's family lived in a stuffy old two-story house that used to belong to her father. It wasn't that big, nor had the smell of cat pee ever truly dissipated. But not for lack of trying. Fugaku really wanted to impress his friend at least a little.

"I lost count of how many times it turned awkward, just because someone had to bring up his grandfather. Please don't do that with Hizashi."

"Did _I_ do that or did _your mother_ do that?" Sarani's brow furrowed. He knew that Nawaki was still a landmine in his son's soul he needed to tiptoe around or risk an explosion of grief.

"…mostly _okaa-san_ ," Fugaku confessed, "but you acted like you were uncomfortable. Is there some deep underlying blood feud between us and the Hyūga Clan, too?" He wanted an answer. "I want this friendship to work. I want it to _last._ "

Didn't his family realize how lonely he'd started to feel outside of the clan? Within the confines of his own flesh and blood, Fugaku never felt alone. Mikoto kept asking for help practicing her Academy skills, and her brother seemed nice. Yashiro stepped forward as a sort of mentor/confidante combination, which was most welcome. Sanjo continued to treat him like a favorite little brother. Kaede cared enough to stop by and offer to listen to him if he needed to talk, though Fugaku still preferred to spill his heart to Yashiro. Kaede gossiped too much.

Outside, he'd watched as most of his friendships failed to stand up after one person died. Tohru stuck around, but it was increasingly becoming harder to relate to him when he continued to sit in the comfort of the Academy. Mitsumi's depression made it increasingly harder to reach her, all to the point where Fugaku feared his presence did more harm than good. As for Neyuki, he had to interact with Mikuro to get to him and would rather not do that.

Hyūga Hizashi marked a fresh start. They hadn't shared an Academy classroom together or started on the same team, but that was alright. Away from his brother, his true personality managed to shine through and Fugaku couldn't help but enjoy that.

"No. There's no blood feud between our two clans. We supposedly share a common ancestor. There's no other clan in the whole of this village we're closer to than them…at least in blood." Sarani put his hands to his back and sighed, glancing around. "How about I tell your mother what you want to do about dinner? It's only–"

" _Sukiyaki,_ " Fugaku insisted impishly. "If Hiashi finds out later, I want to make him jealous." Despite his father keeping a calm face in front of him, he could hear the man lose that composure as soon as he left the room. Sarani _laughed_ as he reiterated this to Kazusa.

…

Hizashi arrived by himself, impish delight present in his pale eyes. He didn't even attempt to hide the smile on his lips when he bowed in respect toward Sarani. "Thank you for having me over, Sarani _-sama_. I'll be a considerate guest."

"You can be at least a _little_ loud and rowdy, Hizashi- _kun_ ," Kazusa teased lightheartedly from the kitchen. "If I can't hear you, I'll have to assume you and my son are up to something!"

The Hyūga boy placed his shoes by the door and offered a small gift to Sarani. By the time Fugaku finished tidying the upstairs, he spotted his new friend and quickly made his way downstairs. "Hello, Fugaku!" Right away, he noticed the Uchiha boy looking around suspiciously. "You can relax. My brother didn't come with me."

' _Thank the gods._ '

"Does he know you're here?" Fugaku asked warily. "Is there _any_ chance he'll invite himself over?"

"He'll find out tomorrow," Hizashi confessed, practically beaming. "I begged my mother to let me do this by myself. She gave permission." The thrill came through in his words. "And she's going to keep my little secret."

' _Your family's so strict. All I have to do is let my parents know if I'm going somewhere else.'_

It left the Uchiha boy grateful for his parents. They didn't indulge him, but they respected him as a person. They treated his wants and goals as every bit as valid as theirs, even though he wasn't yet an adult. They were all about independence and self-reliance.

"Sukiyaki's ready," Kazusa announced. "Please, eat everything. This doesn't make good leftovers."

The family sat together, leaving a space so the two boys could sit next to each other. Hizashi excitedly watched as the food bubbled in the broth on the tiny stove. Before too long, a whole slew of questions left his mouth. How did Kazusa _-sama_ and Sarani _-sama_ meet? How long has Sarani- _sama_ known Buyo- _sensei_? Which deity does the Uchiha Clan worship at the Naka Shrine? Did they know that the Hyūga and Uchiha Clans shared a common ancestor?

Honestly, it was the most Fugaku had ever heard this kid talk and he tried his best not to laugh. What's more, he caught sight of something with his father. The way Sarani looked at Hizashi and smiled so warmly made it clear he approved of this new friend. He liked the boy. Kazusa appeared to feel similarly, but not entirely.

Her eyes betrayed her. She still hoped these feelings would come through for the Hyūga heir, not his twin.

…

"That was a great dinner. I really like the way your mother cooks. Hiashi would've enjoyed it too." And he clearly wanted to rub it in his face when he went home tomorrow. "Too bad he wasn't here, huh?" That didn't sound terribly sincere.

"No Hiashi _-sama_ this time?" Fugaku teased, nudging his friend's shoulder.

Hizashi narrowed his eyes, a low chuckle leaving his mouth. His shoulders shook when he did so. "Well, he isn't _here_ , so…"

"You won't be offended if I ask you something, will you? Something's been bothering me." This had gone on long enough; _somebody_ had to address it. At the very least, Fugaku wanted an answer. Hizashi shrugged, insisting he didn't care. This was his friend; he could ask whatever. "I don't understand why you put up with his crap. You're both sons of the clan head and it's not like Hiashi fights better than you do."

Already, he could see Hizashi glancing down, cheeks turning red. "You even said you had to keep your visit here a secret. Not only that, but my mother keeps pushing me to be nicer to him when I can't even bring myself to like him. I don't see what difference it makes if I like _you_ better or–"

"It makes a world of difference, Fugaku. And I can't stand up to Hiashi."

"Sure you can! You're more committed to the missions than he is. You've completed more. Buyo- _sensei_ says you're really talented and I'm inclined to agree. I've never been able to team up with one person and get so much done before! He has no right to treat you like a piece of–"

"Actually, he _does_." Hizashi bit his lip, face scarlet, and proceeded to pull his _hitai-ate_ off so Fugaku could see his brow. There, burned into it in a noxious shade of green, was a brand. "I know you don't know what this is or what it means, but it's the sign of my clan's branch family. They brand us to serve the main family…which my _brother_ belongs to because he was born first."

This time, Fugaku was at a loss for words. All he could do was stand there, appalled, with his mouth half open in shock, disgust, and horror. "Is it a–"

"A curse seal? Yes. And it can't come off unless I die." So even if something were to happen to _Hiashi_ , this couldn't be reversed.

Now it made more sense to him. That whiff of disappointment he caught from Kazusa, her constant pushing for him to go after the other brother's friendship…even that tiny glance of pity in Sarani's eyes for this boy…

' _They knew about this and didn't tell me. They_ _ **knew.**_ _'_

He had no idea he'd get this angry, but he wanted to do something–but nothing _could_ be done. Perhaps the Yamanaka Clan head made him uncomfortable with the severed head incident, but talking to Old Man Osamu was nothing compared to this. The Hyūga Clan were supposed to be an illustrious, highly respected family. This was barbaric, not to mention all kinds of cruel.

"…this is unforgivable _._ I _hate_ your family."

"Yeah…heh…that makes two of us. Your clan doesn't have any ugly practices and rituals hidden away somewhere, too, do they?"

"Us? _Gods_ , no…"

Not that he knew about, anyway.


	29. Alpha Dogs

' _For a great shinobi war, they haven't exactly called me away to anything intense yet. But soon. Sooooon…_ '

Kazusa knew it was coming, but the Sandaime Hokage saw how badly the police chief's son was taking the death of his beloved teammate. A boy that rattled still needed his mother. Such was the argument the clan had made, though Kazusa was starting to itch for real combat.

She hadn't gone on a _real_ war mission since her youth, and a part of her missed it. Already, Sarani got called in at least eight times since this damned thing started—though she couldn't blame Hiruzen for calling her husband to duty time and again. He belonged to an elite disposal team, unsurpassed. Sarani was someone in whom she could take pride, though was it wrong to wish for a little action on her own part?

Then again, the KMPF were here to keep the village internally under control and in compliance. They needed a first line of defense and someone to keep prisoners under control once they made it here. Who could be better than the KMPF to court-marshal captured deserters who _weren't_ to be executed on the spot?

The village needed Captain Kazusa to stay in place, it seemed, no matter how badly Captain Kazusa longed for the battlefield before her arthritic joints deprived her of the ability to fight altogether.

Today served as nothing more than a standard patrol, checking certain points of the village to confirm they hadn't been breached and no shady business was going on behind closed doors. So far, there was nothing. Nothing but–

"Kazusaaaaaaahahahahaha! Good to see you!"

The Uchiha woman paused in place, grimacing slightly as her right ankle gave her some trouble. That pain was nothing compared to the excitement she felt upon seeing an old friend. "Well, if it isn't my favorite wild wolf-man of the woods! It's been too long, Kariudo!" He was every bit as feral-looking as she remembered. "You just came back from the war zone, didn't you?"

"That I did! Your boy and his teammates saved my ass a couple of months ago by getting rid of those bombs. It's a shame what happened to the Senju kid, but how's your son holding up? _Fugu_ , right?"

" _Fugaku._ And he's doing much better. Sarani convinced him to sign up for a new team, so he's already back to doing missions." And this time, Fugaku had a permanent jōnin instructor rather than being passed around by whatever tokubetsu jōnin the village could spare. "With _Buyo._ "

Kariudo cringed when he heard that name, but snickered when he noticed Kazusa's sympathy grimace.

"I can't help but notice you aren't _alone,_ Kariudo." Kazusa squatted down, wanting to get a better look at the little tomboy holding her daddy's hand. "You must be Tsume- _chan_."

She'd heard her teammate talk about his daughter a few times but never met the child before. Who else could this cute little rascal be? Her hair was every bit as dark and unruly as her father's.

Kazusa held out a hand for the child to shake. "I'm Uchiha Kazusa: one of your father's teammates."

"I like yer sunglasses," Tsume admitted, shaking as energetically and fiercely as her three-year-old hand could muster. "An' yer uniform."

"Tsume, Kazusa here is the captain of the Konohagakure Military Police Force." Well, that _certainly_ caught the child's attention. "Not to mention she's the head of the Uchiha Clan." Even more so! "I think she likes you."

"Well, you know what?" Kazusa grinned, ruffling the girl's hair and chuckling as she saw how it stood up and refused to go back down. "I have a feeling I'll like Tsume- _chan_ , too."

Despite the tough, no-nonsense resolve she tended to hold during working hours for most everyone, she was different around children. Every time one of her comrades became a parent, it was inevitable. She'd fall in love with the child, shower them with affection, and want to know all about them.

It was a sweet enough notion, but Kariudo knew the origin of that behavior. Several years ago, Kazusa lost a baby. Between that baby's death and Fugaku's birth, there was a long string of failed pregnancies. After Fugaku, Kazusa and Sarani tried, but the medics insisted she'd have no further luck with children. He was the only one they'd ever have.

There was a long and lonely period of eight years where she and Sarani were a childless couple, enviously watching as their lifelong friends started families. Kariudo had been a late bloomer in that regard and therefore been Kazusa's top confidante outside the clan.

"My boy was adorable at this age. Sometimes I miss that because he's certainly _not_ cute now," she admitted. "We'd work ourselves ragged, but it was worth it just to come home and see how excited he'd get."

Days where one of them could actually afford to stay home were even better. He'd been such a playful child, so full of energy.

"Enjoy having Tsume- _chan_ around with you for as long as you can. She'll be a kunoichi before you know it." Tsume's face wrinkled up at that as if she smelled something bad. "What's wrong?"

"I _hate_ Kunoichi Preschool," she growled, folding her arms. "Did you have to go?"

"Nope," Kazusa admitted, continuing to squat down so she could have a chat with the child. "When I was a kid, Lady Mito and her friends were still figuring out how they wanted to run that program. What's it like?"

"AWFUL!" Tsume yelled, holding both of her hands up in a melodramatic display of annoyance. "They don't teach me how to fight! All we do is play with flowers, sew stuff, and cook. It's boring and the other girls are boring and…" Oh, that rant could go on and on _,_ it seemed!

' _You're a girl after my own heart,'_ Kazusa thought, trying her best to conceal her smile. "Hey…Kariudo? I don't mind showing her a thing or two, assuming you don't have any issues with that."

A roar of laughter ensued instead. "Well, her ma ducked out on us, so that would be _great_."

…

 **The Inuzuka Clan was one of the newer pioneer families. They weren't a founding family like the Uchiha, but Kazusa's father insisted up and down that didn't make the Inuzuka any less necessary for the village's strength. The whole way over here, he'd made a point of reiterating to Kazusa what he wanted her to do.**

 **"We're trying something new as a village. You'll be placed in a team with children from other clans. Learn all you can about them and try to make friends."**

 **"And one of them's an Inuzuka?" Kazusa asked, watching as her father nodded his head. "The other one is a…? Sorry. I forgot."**

 **"Nara. The girl is a Nara and should be here a little later." He'd intentionally pushed his daughter to meet her other teammate first. There, standing at the edge of the woods, were two of the wildest-looking people Kazusa had ever seen.**

 **The woman—her new teammate's mother, Kazusa assumed—had nails so long and sharp that they resembled talons. Her hair was frizzy and almost entirely white. A large number of claw marks scarred her body and she sported an eye patch. "…Okami-** ** _dono_** **," she heard her father greet, bowing in respect. This woman, Okami, did the same. "This must be Kariudo."**

 **"And this is Kazusa?" Okami held out her hand. Kazusa's eyes went right to how dark her nail beds were, but she couldn't tell if the cause was dirt or blood. Either way, there was a strong doggy smell coming from both these strangers. "I hope you and my son become good friends. Your father is one of the toughest men I've ever fought!"**

 **"Indeed. I left you for dead."**

 **"I sure fooled you, didn't I?!" Okami guffawed. "But don't you worry about that now! Now we all belong to a bigger, stronger village. It's time to put old grudges aside and build something better! Isn't that what Hashirama says?"**

 **Kazusa noticed how her father bit his lip, but he said nothing in response to that. He simply moved off with Okami to talk about the bad old days, all in tones too low for his daughter's ears to pick up.**

 **"I guess that means it's just you and me for now, huh?"**

 **"Guess so!" the Inuzuka boy replied, grinning. Right away, Kazusa noted how sharp his teeth were. "Pleased to meet you, Kazusa-** ** _chan_** **."**

 **"You too!" Though her eyes were drawn far more to the lanky, grizzled-looking pup beside her new teammate. "Is that your puppy?!"**

 **"Yeah! Every Inuzuka gets a ninja dog once they become a shinobi!" And right away, he saw the light shine in Kazusa's coal black eyes. "You love animals too?"**

 **"I really, really do. I had this amazing cat once–"**

 **"A cat, huh?" Kariudo chuckled. "Well, no one's perfect, I suppose; but it's great to have another animal lover on the team. I'm sure we'll become best friends."**

 **"I want that, too!" Kazusa agreed. "Even when we're older."**

 **"Good," she heard her father call out. "That boy is going to lead his people someday. Build a friendship with him."**

…

She could hear Fugaku and Hizashi whispering upstairs, trying their best not to be heard. Very well. She could give the boys their privacy. After all, Hizashi was her son's guest and he'd been polite enough to help her clean the table after everyone finished their sukiyaki.

Poor thing. She pitied him so.

"Well, the kitchen's clean again," Kazusa sighed, putting the mop away. "Don't ask me to do anything else tonight. I'm tired." Sarani put the miniature stove away and placed a gentle hand on his wife's back. "I'm thinking about taking a bath. Want to join me?"

Sarani gave her cheek a kiss and wrapped his arms around her. She was too tall for him to rest his head on her shoulder. "Sure, but can I confide in you for a moment?"

"Hm?"

"While I helped set up futons, our son made a comment."

Oh dear. This wouldn't be a good conversation. In recent memory, Fugaku had chewed Kazusa out for how she'd treated Nawaki. Nawaki continued to be a bone of contention between the two, even more so now that the kid was dead.

"He says we're turning this into a political thing and he'd appreciate it if we stopped."

"…that's it. You aren't bathing with me, Sarani. You killed my mood." He let go, too. "Fugaku needs to get over himself because that's _exactly_ what this is. My father pushed _me_ to join a team with another heir apparent. Kariudo and I are on great terms and you've seen how strong we've bonded with the Inuzuka Clan as a result."

"Don't dismiss our child's feelings so easily, Kazusa." For this, Sarani wouldn't keep his mouth shut. His arms were folded. "Not every friendship Fugaku makes has to carry some sort of hidden agenda. Maybe it's enough that he made friends with Hiashi's twin. You don't even _like_ the Hyūga Clan."

"Who _does_? They're the biggest snobs in the goddamn village and everyone knows it. You're missing the whole point."

"Then enlighten me. What am I missing?"

"It's the _principle_ of the thing. It isn't exactly like Kariudo's little girl is old enough to be a viable teammate for Fugaku, but she could easily make friends with Mikoto or someone else in the clan." And perpetuate the camaraderie for another generation.

"But doesn't your _other_ teammate have a son the same rank as ours? I find it funny that you're purposefully ignoring that." Sarani's face turned smug the instant he noticed how deeply he'd succeeded in annoying his spouse. She glowered just _thinking_ about Nara Tochiko.

…

 **Kazusa spent the whole of her afternoon chatting away with Kariudo, but most of their stories revolved around special pets in their lives. Kariudo had a story for every single dog in his mother's massive pack, each one more badass and amazing than the last. "I used to ride Shiromaru like a horse!"**

 **Kazusa, on the flip side, took ownership for the rapidly increasing feral cat colony populating her neighborhood. Bōfūu had been one very busy kitty after her father pressured her into abandoning him.**

 **The adults were still talking in the background, but that didn't even matter. She could wander back to her clan by sundown and spend the rest of the afternoon with this interesting boy.**

 **In some ways, she felt he already understood her better than Naho did. Kariudo felt like a kindred soul, like a brother she never knew she wanted until she actually met him.**

 **So naturally her hopes were sky high the instant their other team member arrived. '** ** _She's a Nara,'_** **she remembered her father telling her. '** ** _They own a lot of the woods and tend to the deer. That and they have really useful shadow jutsu.'_**

 **"Over here!" Kariudo called out, waving his arm toward this girl. She wore her hair tightly back in a bun and sported an earth-tone yukata. "I'm Inuzuka Kariudo and this is Uchiha Kazusa. We're your new teammates!"**

 **"Pleased to meet you, Kariudo-** ** _kun_** **," the girl replied, giving him a polite bow. "I am Nara Tochiko."**

 **"We're excited to meet you," Kazusa added, but the girl grimaced. "What's the matter?"**

 **"…oh. I was hoping I** ** _wouldn't_** **have to share a team with an Uchiha," Tochiko admitted, shrugging her narrow shoulders.**

 **"Why not?" Kazusa immediately jumped on the defensive with this, thin-skinned as she was. Kariudo tried to calm her down a bit by telling her that her braid was fluffing up like an angry cat's tail, but all that merited was an elbow to his stomach. "I wanna hear it. What's so bad about my clan?"**

 **"Where do I even begin?" Tochiko retorted, sticking out her tongue. "But if you want an example, I'll** ** _gladly_** **provide one." Kazusa's face progressively turned redder with every word to leave this girl's mouth. Who the hell did she think she was? "An Uchiha man poached some of my family's deer. We didn't give him permission, nor did he apologize. He hasn't** ** _quit_** **, either."**

 **Instantly, Kazusa knew who the culprit was. Not every child in the clan had it as good as she did. There was an older boy who fished every day, trying to bring enough meat home to provide for his family. He kept fishing even after his little brother drowned.**

 **"I saw him before," Tochiko continued. "He was covered in dirt. He** ** _smelled_** **like dirt."**

 **'** ** _And he's poor enough that his wife sometimes has to EAT dirt,'_** **Kazusa thought, seething. "That family's practically** ** _starving_** **," she snapped. "Cut him a little slack. They** ** _need_** **that meat."**

 **"He has a family?"**

 **"Yes!" And already, she could see Kariudo scooting further away. How quickly he learned.**

 **"With kids?"**

 **"One son."**

 **"If he can't afford to feed himself, then that man had no business having kids in the first place," Tochiko growled. "I'll work with you in a team, but I'm not going to like you.** ** _Ever_** **."**

 **'** ** _You're not so lovable either, you little bitch,'_** **Kazusa thought, casting her gaze briefly toward her father, Inuzuka Okami, and Tochiko's parents…then back to Tochiko. "Tochiko-** ** _chan_** **?"**

 **"What?"**

 **"You aren't a clan head's daughter, are you?"**

 **"No. Why do you–"**

 **…it didn't matter that she was scolded the whole way home for beating that girl bad enough to knock out two teeth. Nothing her father yelled at her, even an impressive string of profanities, could wipe the smug grin off her beaming pudgy face.**

…

She typically didn't clock out of work around 3:00 in the afternoon, but today was special. Sarani agreed to cover the rest of the shift for her. Kariudo gave the okay for her to pick Tsume up from Kunoichi Preschool, spend the afternoon with his little girl, and walk the child back home.

Besides, he knew how badly she'd always secretly wanted a daughter. Fugaku was great and she wouldn't trade him for anyone else, but it would have been nice to give him a rambunctious little sister.

Tsume felt like a kindred spirit. What part of a wild-hearted tomboy _wouldn't_ appeal to her? And her mother was out of the picture. It couldn't hurt to bond with her friend's child and be a positive female role model, could it?

She made it to the Kunoichi Preschool in time to see some of Tsume's annoyance in full action. A prissy little Yūhi girl laughed and pointed. "See? I _told_ you. You keep bullying us and someone's gonna call the police." Tsume shook a fist at the girl, making her squeak in terror, and then pranced over to the tall Uchiha woman. She grinned from ear to ear.

"Hi _oba-san_! What're you gonna teach me?"

"I thought we could go out for dango first," Kazusa suggested. "I haven't had a chance to treat my boy in a while."

"You have a kid?! Is he my age, or is he older?"

"He's twelve."

"That's too old. Never mind."

"But there's a girl in my clan who isn't _that_ much older than you! If you train with me sometime, maybe you two can play." Mikoto did great with younger children. She already wanted to help Nanami and Kitaro with their twin babies, despite only being seven herself.

"You know, Kazusa _oba-san_?" Tsume reached out for the woman's hand, playfully dragging her along. "I'm glad you came by. _Otou-san_ says you're the greatest."

"He's lying."

Tsume laughed at that, still grinning. "But there's one thing I _don't_ like about you." The Uchiha woman froze in place and gave the child a quizzical look. What on earth could it be?

"…you're a cat person, aren't you?"


	30. Exposure Therapy

"Wait! I've got something for you!" Mikoto ran as fast as she could, attempting to catch up to Fugaku. The twelve-year-old walked even faster, just to see if Mikoto could go any faster. "Waaaaaaait! The fate of your mission depends on it!"

"No it doesn't," Fugaku grumbled, though he internally smiled. Mikoto had been such a good little friend as of late. Finally, he chose to humor her and stayed in place. "Alright. What is it, Mi- _chan_?"

And there it was, just as he suspected: her sparkly pink unicorn bento. His eye twitched, remembering the time she'd pulled a similar stunt two years ago. Mitsumi had called Mikoto his "little waifu" for nearly a whole year. "Oh no. I'm not falling for _that_ again."

"Fall for what?" She batted her big black eyes innocently.

' _Maybe she forgot,'_ he decided. ' _She was only five.'_ So maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let her know where his concerns rested. "I can't live off nothing but candy. The last time you made me lunch–"

"I was five!" Mikoto huffed. "You can't trust _anything_ five-year-old Mi- _chan_ did."

"And I can trust seven-year-old Mi- _chan_ more? I doubt it." Fugaku couldn't stop staring at this thing.

' _Hiashi's going to give me so much shit for carrying a pink bento._ ' He could imagine his smarmy little face already. But he also didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings. She was trying to do something nice for him.

Mikoto rolled her eyes in indignation and let loose a loud huff of annoyance. "Uh-huh. You _can_ trust me. There's boring stuff in there, too."

"Like what?"

"Tamagoyaki."

Very well. He'd concede that he liked that, but Fugaku held no plans of taking any chances. Opening the bento, something sprung out and launched at his face. Mikoto had invested in the old "can of snakes" prank. Fugaku dropped the bento immediately, yelping in shock and jumping back about a meter.

Mikoto howled in laughter, hugging her middle. "You should've seen the look on your face! You–hey, are you okay?"

No, he wasn't. Sudden motions like that connected in his memory with the rush, heat, and howl of an abrupt explosion. He could feel it all over again and his whole body shivered.

"You're pale. You're _shaking_. Are you–"

Fugaku swatted the girl's hand away and stormed off, trying to calm himself down before he made it to the rally point. He was supposed to be the _senpai_ on that squad. The last thing he wanted was for either twin to see him break a sweat or see him in a state of panic. If luck went his way, he'd actively kill that part of himself before they ever had a chance to see it.

…

As much as Fugaku worried that he'd show aftershocks of his panic attack in front of the twins, that wasn't what came out the instant he saw them. Anger erupted instead.

Hizashi was decked out like a pack mule, barely able to stand. By comparison, his spoiled brat of a brother carried only one messenger bag. By now, he knew Hizashi belonged to the branch family and had to serve the main family his twin still belonged to, but that didn't mean the Fugaku had to like it.

"Let me carry some of that for you," he offered, holding out his arms so he could at least take away the backpack. Hizashi started to do so until Hiashi cleared his throat. "What is your problem, Hiashi? Can't pull your share of the weight?" The Hyūga heir wrinkled his nose at him. "You've been wearing on my last nerve."

"Is that why you never invite me over?" Hiashi huffed.

 _Shit_. He'd found out. And now it dawned on Fugaku that perhaps Hiashi was doing this as another means of asserting dominance or passively getting even. Whatever. He wouldn't cave in to Hiashi's demands. Fugaku handed the bag back to him and moved to walk faster with Hizashi.

They found Buyo not too far away, whispering something to a mature botfly resting on his hand. He nodded his head, long dreadlocks swaying like thick vines on a tree. The whole of his sensei's tight black turtleneck appeared to be wriggling about, which made Fugaku feel queasy.

"They're mature," Buyo informed him, leaving it only at that. No other words were needed. They knew he meant the bugs. Hizashi had used his byakugan once to peep on their sensei, only to turn green in the face. The man was a virulent, teeming hive. "Unlike you three."

Nawaki would have yelled at Buyo for making such a remark, insisting he wasn't a little kid anymore but a grown man. The twins did no such thing. They averted their eyes and sulked. Fugaku kept eye contact with Buyo's sunglasses.

"Well, that's why we have _you_. Isn't it?" Fugaku wasn't up for being chided, especially not by one of his father's friends. The Aburame man reached out, placing his gloved hand on Fugaku's right arm, and squeezed. "What's this about?"

"Debriefing. You may need to lead the team if I get called away during the mission…and that's highly likely."

Hizashi laughed nervously, muttering under his breath that Hiashi was _really_ going to love that.

Fugaku, however, was confused. These two were still genin. Would the village pry Buyo away like they'd pulled every temporary sensei of his away when _he_ first started?

"All I know is we're going abroad for a few days. Beyond that, the mission report was too vague for me to make anything else of it."

"You asked me once if we would participate in a Search & Destroy mission." Fugaku's eyes went wide open at that, feeling the excitement build within him. "This isn't one." _Oh_. "But it's close."

"What do you mean?" Fugaku's brow furrowed in confusion, but sometimes he had to admit he didn't understand his sensei. His father told him Buyo was a very private man who often kept his opinions and personal thoughts to himself. Everything was strictly business with the Aburame jōnin unless he believed he'd never have another chance to confess a feeling–which seldom happened. "It is or it isn't. You've confused me, sensei."

"We're on disposal duty." Buyo craned his festering neck to get a better look at Fugaku and the twins. "Assuming you believe we're ready for such things. You suffered a major loss this summer, Fugaku. If it's too soon and seeing dead bodies will–"

"I'll be fine."

Perhaps his voice cracked too much to sound convincing, but he needed to tough it out. If he stayed away from everything that made him uncomfortable, he'd never progress as a shinobi or build up a tolerance to the world's atrocities. What good was a sharingan if it belonged to a coward? And what good was a coward as a future leader?

"Dead bodies won't…" They weren't going to bother him unless he knew them, he internally lied to himself. The more corpses he could put between Nawaki's memory and himself, the better. The war hadn't exactly _stopped_ , nor did it show any signs of reaching an end anytime soon. "I can't have somebody hold my hand and treat me like a child forever. I need to man up."

"That's very honorable, but I'm asking if you'll be able to do this." Buyo could be a blunt man, too. "Can you?"

"Yes."

…

And sure enough, Buyo received a summons to dispose of a deserter by the third day. They'd only just made it to the outskirts of the Land of Rain.

"Buyo _-sensei_ turned over the list of confirmed dead from the village. If certain bodies are unaccounted for on the battlefield, we circle them on the list. From there, we check the Bingo Book classifications. If they're part of a clan or a high enough rank and missing, we notify Buyo- _sensei_ when we reconvene. Everyone else, we dispose of."

This wouldn't be easy. When Fugaku said he could handle a dead body, he wanted to believe it. Now that he caught his first whiff of the aftermath, his stomach refused to cooperate. That was nothing compared to the twins. Every time they stopped for a break, one would whisper something into the other's ear and they'd work each other into a fit.

In moments such as these, he didn't see a brat and his mistreated twin. He saw two scared kids who were scared of the dead and completely unprepared for this mission.

' _I don't think I'm the one you should have questioned, Sensei,'_ he thought as he opened his thermos and handed over some of the anti-nausea powder in his emergency medical kit. Up close, he noticed Hiashi was hyperventilating. "What's wrong with you?"

"Do you think we can go down there without him?" Hizashi asked, stroking his twin's back. Once or twice, Hiashi lurched, but nothing came up. "He's–"

"No. He's not pulling this shit again." Fugaku narrowed his eyes sharply toward the Hyūga heir. "If Hizashi and I have to go down there, _you_ need to go down there, too. Pull your weight for once, Hiashi, and–"

"Don't talk to me like that!" Hiashi whined. "I can smell them from here. They're all…there isn't a single living…I can't–"

"Shut _up_! Yes you can!" Fugaku snapped back, growing increasingly annoyed. "If your brother can do it, then why can't you!?"

If this was what he'd looked like when Mikoto pranked him, then he needed to be ashamed of himself. "Cowards aren't fit to be shinobi." He reached for Hiashi's wrist, trying to yank the boy to stand. Hiashi swatted at him, but his arm was too short.

"Just do it, Hiashi," Hizashi pushed. "The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home."

…

As the smell of human putrescence blended with the heat of flames and chemical after-stench of accelerant, Fugaku couldn't help but feel he'd been overly cruel toward Hiashi. He was in the corner, retching as Hizashi held his long hair and stroked his back. The sight (and smell) had proven to be too much for such a delicate boy.

They were fortunate that all but one body was accounted for. Yamanaka Hideaki, an ANBU operative, was nowhere to be found. Fugaku knew the name. That guy was one of Sanjo's old teammates from before he joined the KMPF.

It felt terrible to actually play bingo _with_ a Bingo Book, but that was their preliminary work prior to eliminating the evidence. The heat made his face feel tight, _too_ tight. The odor was unbearable.

When he first returned to the village after losing Nawaki, the smell of cooking meat was enough to make Fugaku ill. This was worse. There were more bodies and none of them were fresh. They stank long before he set them alight.

But at least he stopped trembling some time ago. And by about the twelfth body, he stopped seeing Nawaki's mangled face on every single corpse. The tongues of his flames licked and chewed away at the rotten and fallen, peeling back until only blackened bone remained. His eyes ached, either from the sting of the smoke or other issues.

Hizashi timidly stepped closer to his teammate and sat beside him once Hiashi calmed down. "How can you stand it?" he whispered. "You're so calm. It's creepy."

"I'm not as calm as they are," Fugaku murmured, gesturing toward the mass incineration. "If we're being honest with each other, Hizashi, I may as well admit it. I'm _not_ calm. Inside, I'm feeling everything your brother is."

But he had enough self-control _not_ to puke his guts out. "About a week ago, a kid in my clan pranked me and I got all jumpy because it reminded me of an explosion, but I'm not going to be much good to anyone if all I do is avoid things that scare me, am I?"

"I suppose not."

If he saw one body, he could see a hundred. He could see a _thousand_ , even. At some point, _surely_ , the shock and the horror would go away entirely and it wouldn't bother him anymore.

He had to believe that.

He _needed_ to.


	31. Enablers

Few things in the world could have incited a bigger internal panic than hearing those three words: **Missing In Action**. Sanjo's fingers squeezed Fugaku's shoulders so tightly that he was pretty sure he'd bruised the kid. To make matters even worse, he shook the twelve-year-old until his head wobbled.

"Listen, runt. I rarely ask you for anything, but this is different. Hideaki is my best friend in the whole goddamn world. You're _sure_ you didn't see him out there?!"

"How many times do I have to tell you? I checked every single body while my team was out there!" Fugaku glowered at the teenager. His bottom lip appeared to pout, but that's just how his bitchy twerp face always looked.

The vast majority of the time, Fugaku was Sanjo's little buddy, but sometimes even he managed to piss off the thin-skinned teenager. Maybe he loved the kid more than he loved his pal, but that didn't mean he'd forgive this. His best friend was the one body unaccounted for in that failed battle.

"Did the Blunder Twins help you, too?" Sanjo hissed. "They have the _byakugan_ , for fuck's sake. How could all three of you overlook a Yamanaka?"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself, Sanjo? Hideaki wasn't there," Fugaku growled, prying Sanjo's hands off. "Either the enemy captured him, he ran away, or he's trying to come home as we speak."

He wanted to play this game with him? _Fine_. He'd say something vicious and insensitive back. Maybe His Royal Highness would realize how much of an annoying little shit he was being. "If Nawaki or Mitsumi had gone missing, would you be so fucking calm?"

"You're not funny," Fugaku growled, moving Sanjo's hand away. "This isn't going anywhere. Talking to you is like talking to a wall." He skulked down the hall, taking his bento with him. He'd only visited the KMPF central station to bring Yashiro lunch on his day off. Fucking boy scout.

But maybe the runt was right. Maybe Hideaki _was_ unaccounted for and not one of the corpses disposed of in the body dump. Hopefully, that meant his pal still had a pulse.

"The hell's wrong with you, talking to my son like that?"

Sanjo nearly jumped out of his skin when he caught sight of the clan head looming behind him, staring him down from beneath her aviator sunglasses. Jeez. Why on earth did Kazusa have to wear them _inside_?

"Don't tell me you're worried about your friend."

"Is that a crime now, _taichou_?" Sanjo snapped back. "Hideaki's parents probably haven't even noticed yet." They were every bit as busy as Sanjo's parents: working long shifts underneath their clan head in Torture  & Interrogation. They seldom had time to look after him or his sister. "You know I don't normally submit for time off, but–"

"I get it, kid. I'd bend heaven and earth to save my most precious people. I've come to realize over the years that most of us feel the same way." Kazusa patted Sanjo's wrist with a couple of light taps. "Are you going to try to set up a team with your outside friends and see if anyone bites? You know ANBU's probably going to send people, considering he's one of _theirs…_ "

That's all it boiled down to, really. KMPF was KMPF. ANBU reported directly to the Hokage. As a result, some of their cases turned into a cease and desist notice for the military police. "You back down if ANBU tells you to, Sanjo." She could already see the _fuck you; he's my friend_ building on his lips. "I mean it. The last thing any of us want is to see you get carted off for insubordination or treason."

"All I want is to bring back my friend? He's part of this village and so am I. How could anyone call that treason?"

Kazusa turned quiet, scratching at an itch on her face. "My husband will take care of–"

"The vulture squad? Are you fucking kidding me?!"

" _Language_."

"You're talking about Hideaki like he defected. There's no way he'd ever…he _wouldn't_ …" No. Yamanaka Hideaki was more the sort to pull a _no-show_ rather than a betrayal. That guy was as loyal as loyal could be. "I'm doing this whether the village likes it or not. I've made up my mind and I dare you to stop me."

Kazusa sighed, slowly rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "You'll need to find someone to help your parents with the babies, at least." Sanjo cringed. "Maybe Kaede? She's old enough to babysit." Sanjo just gave Kazusa a long, annoyed look for that. "What? You know I can't. I'm _working_."

…

 **A guy got the message after a while. Work was top priority; their son, second…or third.**

 **They didn't show up for his first day of Academy. They weren't there for his graduation, either, or any of the slew of parent-teacher conferences his Academy teacher tried to set up to talk about Sanjo's behavioral problems. All he had to do was fake his father's signature on report cards and other notes. His teacher remained oblivious because only a total nitwit would brag about his sneakiness.**

 **Sanjo stared listlessly at the ceiling of his bedroom, realizing today marked another boring day of boring missions with boring people. It was bullshit, really. His parents always acted like becoming a shinobi was such a big deal, but now they didn't have five freaking minutes to spare to see how their son was progressing. Such was the story of his life.**

 **On the ceiling (minus the water marks and cracks) were whole constellations of plastic stars that absorbed light and glowed in the dark. They'd been there since he was five and excitedly pointed out a few constellations to his father. One morning, he woke up and there were** ** _stars_** **. Now most were covered with posters of places he wanted to visit…or favorite girly pictures he'd torn from his dad's dirty mags.**

 **He didn't make up the bed after he rolled out of it. The next step was to finger-brush his limp dark hair and kick at the huge pile of clothes until he found something he remembered washing earlier in the week. A little cold water for the face, a quick brushing of the teeth, and he'd be ready to start another pointless day.**

 **Downstairs, just as he suspected, all he could find were a couple of toaster pastries (not even heated up), an orange, and a note from his mother wishing him good luck today. Luck had nothing to do with it. This shit simply happened when one came from such a prestigious clan. He'd have to be a total dud not to make it as a genin.**

 **After cleaning the plate and putting it back away, he reached for the front door and–**

 **"SURPRISE, BITCH! BET YOU–"**

 **His Yamanaka teammate stupidly assumed it would be a smart and funny idea to hang upside down at the front door and greet his teammate as a surprise. Sanjo was surprised, alright. He screeched like a bewildered little girl, sucker-punched the blonde, and watched him whimper and writhe on the ground.**

 **"Serves you right** ** _,_** **you dick! What were you even trying to accomplish?!"**

 **Hideaki laughed between his pained groans, clearly adamant in his belief that the prank was totally worth a few instances of pain. "You were a sulky little shit last week. Yashiro told me why."**

 **Right. He had his birthday last week. Kazusa-** ** _taichou_** **pulled a few strings to make sure both his parents had the day off so they could spend it with him…or so she claimed. The request ended up having to be rescinded when a prisoner tried to break out.**

 **"Yashiro had no business telling you** ** _shit_** **," Sanjo hissed. His birthday was his own damn business. The last thing he needed was his teammates to think his clan saw him as a half-forgotten nobody. Even though it was true, he didn't want that sort of reputation.**

 **"I just wanted to wish you a happy belated birthday, y'know? My folks ditched mine, too," Hideaki confessed. "I rarely see them."**

 **"Alright.** ** _Alright_** **. I get it." Sanjo held up his hands in defeat and sighed. "No need to get sappy on me." Though now he felt somewhat guilty for punching this kid. All he wanted to do was cheer him up. "Hey…want to ditch our mission and hang out instead? I know where my ma hides the cigarettes."**

…

If Sanjo couldn't be bothered to tidy up this pigsty, then neither could Nanami and Kitaro. They were too busy being lovey-dovey with each other to pay any attention to their spawn…all freaking _three_ of them. Within his first four steps into the house, Sanjo heard and felt an unpleasant crunch under his foot. Glancing down, he found a now-broken baby toy. _Great_.

' _Don't worry, buddy. I'm coming after you.'_

All over the house, Sanjo saw dirty laundry. About a tenth of the strewn clothing concealed something else that would crunch, crack or squish under his feet if he didn't walk around this dump with the same care he'd exercise in a minefield. ' _And would it kill you two to pitch in sometime? I know you're working long hours, but for fuck's sake. I'm your_ _ **son**_ _, not your maid.'_

He'd have enough supplies stockpiled to merit a one week mission, maybe a week and a half if he rationed. That could quickly turn into two weeks if he stole his dad's supplies. Kitaro wouldn't notice, but–

One of the babies squalled from the other room, coughing and screaming her head off. The other one, the boy, wasn't causing a fuss, but Sanjo wouldn't put it past him to join in on the "fun" soon enough. It was bad enough his parents had another kid, but it was just his luck one baby turned out to be two.

Maybe he was being too harsh with the twins. He'd practically become a junior parent to Brat 1 and Brat 2 by now and it wasn't exactly like he _hated_ them. Deep down, he felt some love for them, but it wasn't like he welcomed their presence…especially not when he was about to play the hero and rescue his favorite idiot.

His little sister wailed as loud as she could, pitching a tantrum over something stupid. "Shut up, Sengen," Sanjo growled under his breath. "It's not the end of the world." He glared at the twins, only for his little brother to giggle and hold out his arms for his big brother. "No. Fuck you."

The clan could figure out what to do about the twins. Sure, he was their elder brother, but maybe this would push his parents to grow the hell up and take some more responsibility.

' _I'm never going to be a parent. It's just going to be me, my friends, and maybe a wife.'_ Maybe. He didn't need one to feel complete. Now was the time to put his friends first, which was precisely what he planned to do.

…after he strong-armed Fugaku into surrendering his notes on the body disposal mission.

…

 **"If I made a list of all my friends, you'd be the** ** _last_** **one I'd want to see become a cop." Hideaki laughed, but Sanjo knew he was being serious. "What's the village smoking, putting you in the KMPF?"**

 **"It's all about the** ** _breeding_** **, man," Sanjo admitted, placing that herbal "cigarette" back toward his lips. Every syllable leaving his lips came out with a chuckle. "They'll probably want to put you in Torture & Interrogation if ANBU doesn't work out."**

 **When Hideaki's flesh was first etched with the ANBU tattoo, Sanjo thought it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen. In an attempt to get a rise out of his mother, he made a remark one evening that he planned on getting one, too. Her reaction killed it for him. How the hell was he supposed to know his parents had matching tattoos on their shoulders?** ** _Lame_** **.**

 **Sometimes he worried that his parents were more immature than he was–and he went out of his way to be immature. Every attempt to be a "bad" son was thwarted and quashed by their passive permissiveness. They didn't want to be parents; they wanted to be friends.**

 **Screw them. He had a friend his own age right here who could quite literally read his mind. Since Hideaki did that and** ** _still_** **chose to stick around, Sanjo hoped to keep him forever.**

 **They'd stuck together through everything. As a team, they managed to scare away three aspiring teammates, an annoying girl-stalker who turned conveniently deaf every time Hideaki told her** ** _no_** **, and even their jōnin instructor.**

 **Part of it was an underhanded attempt to be too much of a delinquent for the clan to justify placing him in the KMPF, but it wasn't exactly like they had a choice. It was almost worth it to see the resigned expression on Kazusa's face when she had to give him the uniform anyway.**

 **"I'm never going into T &I, Sanjo." Hideaki took off his glasses so he could rub his eyes. "** ** _Never_** **. I'm too creative a guy to settle down and turn into a skullscraper." And it was true. Few people could express themselves anywhere near as abstractly as Yamanaka Hideaki. Sanjo had an opportunity to experience it, too. Hideaki's mind was a psychedelic labyrinth: an endless muse for the Uchiha's genjutsu.**

 **"Your eyes are bloodshot. Think anyone's gonna notice when you go on your mission tomorrow?"**

 **Sometimes Hideaki worried him. They'd fooled around with this stuff for fun several times, but Sanjo didn't feel dependent. The smoking and drinking really only came out when he dicked around with his buddy. Hideaki, however…?**

 **He'd only been at this for four months and Sanjo already noticed the changes in his friend's behavior. Hideaki's right arm had a tremor he never managed to successfully shake. And he'd always have a little something on hand. Getting high was what he liked to do most of all.**

 **"I wear a mask." Hideaki nudged Sanjo, rolling over on the bed. Those dorky plastic stars were still up there, fake constellations that were every bit as cheap and slapped together as the affection that put it together in the first place.**

 **Sometimes they'd smoke the night's party favor down to ashes and stare at the toy stars, watching as the constellations came to life. Pairing their chemical recreation with Sanjo's genjutsu and Hideaki's trippy brain talk provided hours of amusement, but not tonight.**

 **"You're bored, aren't you?" The Yamanaka carried a different sort of gleam in his eye tonight. That smile meant he was scheming something. "** ** _Ne_** **…Sanjo…your sharingan…" Sanjo turned to face his friend, blinking slowly. "Let's go AWOL for a week. I have an idea."**

 **"Come again?"**

 **"We take a week off, hit a crappy little town on the country outskirts, count cards, make bank, and come back to the village rich enough to retire."**

 **Sanjo burst into laughter at that, thumping the back of Hideaki's curly head. "What's gotten into you? My job's not** ** _that_** **shitty and you're in ANBU. It's one of the best jobs the village has."**

…

But _why_ , though? Why wasn't he accounted for among the bodies? Why couldn't he shake this feeling? True, Yashiro, Reiko, and some of the other teenagers teased him immensely for this friendship. Yashiro even had the nerve to insinuate his bond with Hideaki was more than platonic.

It didn't always have to result in that. What was wrong with falling in love with somebody's soul and being attracted to them on a purely spiritual level? Was he lame for thinking such things? There wasn't anything lewd between them.

' _I just want to know that you're alive and coming home. Is that too much to ask? Send me a sign, damn it. Let me know it's okay to go after you and drag your ass home.'_

Yamanaka Hideaki was the one person in Uchiha Sanjo's life he didn't have to share. It didn't matter that Hideaki came from another neglectful home or that even his own sister couldn't stand him. Hideaki was _his_. It was astounding how much mischief they created without anyone watching them, but that was all part of the game. It's how they reminded the rest of the disinterested and jaded world that they existed.

And almost all his antics and shenanigans would be as pointless as the rest of his life if Hideaki wasn't in it.

At the edge of KMPF Headquarters, Sanjo caught sight of three familiar faces. There they were, the dreaded _vulture squad_ : Akimichi Iwao, Aburame Buyo, and the clan head's husband. Sanjo's heart pounded heavy enough to ache, leaving him feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

' _They're talking with a guy in a mask. ANBU, obviously…'_ The best move would be to stay hidden and do what he did best with his sharingan: read lips. Eavesdropping could be done from further away, assuming one knew how to do it.

"That kid never did have a lot of balls, did he? All he did was bark and hide behind a bigger, louder dog," Iwao gruffed. "Momoko says that kid is Sanjo's shadow. It's a shame your clan couldn't stick him in ANBU with Hideaki. He's suited for it."

Sarani shook his head in somber disagreement. "No. That would have been a disaster." For this discussion, he couldn't even bring himself to look the other men in the eye. "He's too defiant and strong-willed. Sanjo questions authority and often acts without thinking. My wife had concerns about placing him on the force."

The Aburame man poked a larva threatening to pop out of his wrist. It wriggled. "What of Hideaki, then?"

"I think you already know what we suspect…"

Sanjo couldn't decide what hurt the most: that Kazusa- _taichou_ saw him as a loose cannon and couldn't trust him to do a good job, or that Sarani- _taichou_ agreed with her.

The village suspected the worst of Hideaki, too. Treason was an executable defense. ANBU was willing to call in these three buzzards, so there was no time to waste. If Sanjo saw Hideaki, he'd bring him back and prove his innocence. There were things Hideaki would do, but never this.

He'd burn bridges in the clan if he had to for this, but Sanjo refused to stand aside as people talked about killing his friend. ' _You go through with this and I'll make sure you regret it.'_

Not so long ago, he'd been at the house to prepare. Now he had to make sure he stole every weapon and ration in the house so he could hit the wilderness for as long as possible. He could lose his standing in the KMPF, with the clan, and even with the village for this, but what kind of person would stand by and let this happen?

He'd explain to Kazusa- _taichou_ later if he had to. Friends (what very few he had) came before the damn clan. The clan was never there when he needed them, anyway.

As soon as the door opened, Sengen shrieked like a banshee again. ' _Yeah. Good to see you, too,'_ Sanjo thought, but now he realized Hideo was doing the same. Something had to be seriously wrong if the _happy_ baby wanted to pitch a fit.

Tiptoeing in an attempt not to step on any toys, food, or anything else, Sanjo carefully approached the crib, only to freeze in place as soon as he saw a familiar face who had no business being in the village.

There was Hideaki with eyes like a dead man, staring listlessly at the babies. He reached out to touch one and withdrew a trembling hand. The tremors never stopped, no matter how hard he tried to hold them back. A half-healed gash to the back of his head left his pale blonde curls soaked and crusted in a rusty hue.

He'd never been so pale, so thin, so strung out. ' _What happened to you?'_ But more importantly–

"How the hell are you here?" Sanjo asked. "You're missing." Fugaku was so sure he hadn't missed a single face in his marked out Bingo Book. The proof, shell-shocked and off-kilter, stood before Sanjo as he gawked in disbelief.

As the light caught more of Hideaki, Sanjo felt even sicker inside. "Did they _torture_ you?" They had to. Hideaki had a huge gaping hole where his right ear used to be. One of his hands had every last finger twisted back and curled in ways nature never intended the human body to perform.

"…I called it all those years ago. You were bred to join the police force, but you suck at it. _So bad_." Hideaki sighed, wincing as he opened the bag he'd already stuffed with some very familiar-looking trinkets. "There's no need to point out the obvious. I got fucked over."

"By the enemy, right? Iwagakure shinobi were spotted–"

Hideaki threw a kunai, hitting a family portrait rather than his friend. The weapon lodged itself in Nanami's high-rise ponytail. The couple still smiled, fake and absent as ever. "The truth's worse. This wasn't Iwa. It was another guy on my squad." A wrung out, bitter laugh left his otherwise hollow throat as he paced around the room.

Hideo held out his arms for the blonde stranger, not realizing how much danger he was in. Even Sanjo wasn't sure, save for one thing: his friend was high, terrified, and injured.

"I never went on that mission. I ditched before we ever made it out of the gate. I owed a lot of money, Sanjo, _so much money_ …" Hideaki held that baby in his arms, rocking him with unsteady hands. Hideo couldn't talk, but he'd stopped smiling. Those big dark eyes turned toward his big brother: pleading, uncomfortable, and confused.

"I haven't been well since my first squad got blown to bits. It's been harder and harder to find anything that actually _works_ , and it's…if you knew how much it _cost_ …"

"Most of the tasks I'm assigned are vice-related, Hideaki," Sanjo responded, choosing his words carefully. Tone was even more important. Stay soft. Don't alarm him further. Keep him calm. "I have an idea."

"And since we all wear masks, who'd ever know I'm gone?" Hideaki laughed lowly at that, though it sounded far more like a sob. The baby reached for a blood-soaked curl, tugging at it. The Yamanaka held the child close to him, as if for comfort. "It's the story of our lives, isn't it? We're shadow people. This village never notices us until we do something."

"Like rob your best friend's house?" Sanjo snapped, pointing at the bag. "You know I can't let you do that. I'll arrest you if I–"

"Nuh nuh nuh _no_. ANBU trumps the KMPF. Remember? You'd actually have to prove I did this and–"

It was a low blow, stabbing his friend in the gut like this, but Hideaki couldn't expect to properly fight Sanjo with a baby in his arms. The blonde boy stood there in disbelief, never once thinking his best friend would ever hurt him. It wasn't a fatal blow, but it was a close call.

In the split second where Hideaki remained stunned, Sanjo ripped his little brother out of Hideaki's arms and held him close. Hideo whimpered, nuzzling his fluffy dark head into Sanjo's shoulder and neck. "Go. _Now_."

Hideaki didn't have to be told twice. He disappeared in the shadows, leaving the house as if he'd never existed.

Sanjo, however, could feel the terror in that child. Either that or the child felt his fear. "It's alright," he lied. That's all he _could_ do now: _lie_.


	32. Kindling

' _Come on…come_ _ **on!**_ _Why can't I do it again?'_

Kaede sat in the large, nearly overflowing bathtub for nearly an hour. Her fingers and toes resembled the prunes her grandfather ate every morning as a dietary aid. The initial plan involved surrounding herself with water, just in case she succeeded. Water could quash any blue flames and turn them to steam in an instant.

Thus far, all the annoyed twelve-year-managed to do was reheat her bath. Leaning back, she attempted again and watched as a normal tongue of fire left her lips. She intended to turn the damn thing blue, but it mocked her with its playful orange hue.

' _Congratulations, Kaede. You're a one hit wonder.'_

It infuriated her. Discovering her mother's affair with her teammate's father left her in such a foul mood that a flame erupted from her lips in her family's distinctly dangerous ghostly blue. And yet she couldn't duplicate the result.

' _This could be my thing_. _It would cement my place in the clan, not to mention my family_.' It would show that she shared blood with the greatest arsonist the Uchiha Clan ever produced. People would notice something like this. They'd see her as a promising kunoichi after all and, at long last, pay attention to her. She'd be acknowledged, assuming she could do this again.

' _And won't it be nice to do something Fugaku can't?'_

"Kaede." She lifted her head out of the water, recognizing the voice as that of her youngest uncle. " _Kaaaaaede_. Did you leave any hot water for the rest of us or should I wait an hour?"

There was no point in making him wait. Muraki- _oji_ didn't do anything wrong. Kaede stretched, her toes reaching for the chain at the bottom of the tub so she could release the drain, and watched as a tiny whirlpool spun at the edge, sucking up all the perfumed water.

"I'm getting out," she announced, reaching for her bubblegum pink towel and another for her hair. She'd grown it out to her jaw, watching as her curls coiled like a miniature Medusa. Brushing it was a pain, but she otherwise liked leaving it to its own devices, tying it back with a big pink ribbon.

Sliding the door open, she saw her uncle and smiled at him. Out of everyone on her mother's side, Muraki _-oji_ was her definite favorite. "It's all yours, _oji-san_. You can use my body wash if you want."

"Naaaaah. I'm not doing that." He chuckled, giving her rosy cheek a playful couple of pats, and made his way into the bathroom. Before Kaede closed the door, she caught sight of her uncle disrobing. As handsome as she found him, his bare back was as jagged and rough as the surface of the moon. Those healed over wounds told the story of someone who grew up in the hostile world predating the village.

…and the fact Muraki- _oji_ carried so many old burns and no longer had a left arm…Kaede _wanted_ to ask questions but feared being rude. Her cheeks flushed and she closed the door before her uncle noticed.

"Do you need anything?" Kaede called out, but all she could hear was Muraki turning on the radio.

…

At least they had a reprieve before the next mission. Two weeks of sneaking past enemy lines to deliver medical supplies had to classify as a B-Rank, Mikuro figured.

"A round of thanks is in order for Neyuki in particular," the Shimura boy decided, handing over the last of the junk food he'd packed. Everything else was rationed, but he tended to bring extra. "Can you _have_ chocolate, or…?"

"Ashimaru can't, but I can," Neyuki insisted, ripping the foil so he could take a bite of the snack. He split it three-ways, offering pieces back to Mikuro and to Kaede. "You're sure this was a B-Rank? We haven't even seen the enemy."

"You know where they are."

"Yeah, but it's almost like cheating, you know? I can smell them and there're only eight of them. Once Kaede _-chan_ activates her sharingan, we'll be unstoppable." The Inuzuka boy grinned, nudging his Uchiha teammate. "Won't we?"

Kaede put the chocolate in her mouth, savoring it. There was some sort of candied fruit lodged inside it, but she couldn't tell what it was by taste alone. "That's not a _when_ , Neyuki. It's an _if_. Not every Uchiha has the sharingan." Though it would be a pain if she didn't. It'd make her the only person from Tenjin's line not to have it. "I might not even need it."

"You shouldn't have to rely on it, anyway," Mikuro grumbled. "You can prove your strength without a pair of creepy eyes. When we make it back home, we'll be back in time to take the Chūnin Exams. What do you say, team? Do we give it a go?"

Neyuki snorted out a laugh and nudged his friend in the ribs with an elbow. "You just want to do it because Fug-face is a chūnin. That and you want Mitsumi-chan to notice you."

The Shimura boy's face resembled a beet after the Inuzuka made his comment. "That's not why I want to sign up!" But they could see in Mikuro's face that, yes, that certainly was part of it. "Okay, fine. Those aren't my _only_ reasons. We continued on this mission and completed our task even after our squad leader got called off to do something else. We're only ten miles away from home. We could very well succeed."

And if they put all their energy and effort into making it home tonight, they'd return by about two in the morning.

"I know how badly you want this, Mikuro. I'm in if you are," Kaede decided, noticing her teammate's frown. "Is something wrong?"

"That's not what I'm asking of you. I'm asking if _you_ want this." In short, he wanted to put her on the spot again and leave her with making a decision rather than following his lead. "If you don't think we're ready–"

"If I can get this _one little thing_ right, then maybe…" Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to tell them. "You know my family's known for its blue fire, right?"

"Superheated _Katon_ capable of melting metal. I know." Mikuro raised an eyebrow at this. "Don't tell me–"

"I got it to work a few weeks ago, right after that time I walked you home." She'd leave it at that because Neyuki didn't need to know about the personal shame his teammates felt in regard to their parents.

Mikuro had never looked so proud of her before. Kaede felt the color flush to her face. "But I haven't been able to repeat it. I know it's possible, but I'm missing something. Can we sign up once I know for sure I can do this? I won't even _need_ the sharingan to win if I can do this."

"If that's what it takes to make you feel sure of yourself, then I'll help you make it happen. That's what teammates are for." Mikuro cared, even if he sometimes tried to hide it deep inside. Kaede could read him like a book by now and perhaps that was why she felt so warm. "Let's head back before it gets too late."

Neyuki stretched, scratching at an itch behind his ear. "You know what you should do when we _do_ sign up for the test, Mikuro?" He simply couldn't help himself. The Inuzuka was practically bouncing, eager to rib his friend further. "Place a wager with Mitsumi- _chan_ when we get back. Tell her to go on a date with you if you succeed."

Kaede giggled at first, but it escalated into full on laughter when Mikuro snorted out a huff of annoyance. They were great friends. No; they were the _greatest._

 _…_

She never realized how frustrating it could be, trying to replicate a jutsu. Although Neyuki kept his nose alert and told them which way to go to avoid enemy shinobi, the team had all its attention focused on their little lady. Every once in a while, she slid a bright orange tongue through her lips. At another point, she managed to get her throat to glow, but the colors were too warm.

Blue was a cool color, but those flames were anything but. Kaede had seen the lasting effects on her mother, her uncles, and her grandfather. This jutsu could go wrong in potentially deadly ways. Leave it in her body for too long and her whole chest could explode in a torrent of fire.

"What fuels it? Chakra? Stamina?" Mikuro was doing all he could to attempt to be helpful, but it wasn't working. Why? Why wouldn't it work!? "Or something as cliché and melodramatic as _hate_?"

"Don't be ridiculous. That's about as lame as saying something's powered by love."

But maybe there was something to this. What if an emotion was the difference between an orange flame and a blue one? Kaede rattled her brain, trying her best to recreate what she felt that night. "Maybe I'm a One Hit Wonder. I'm–"

"No. You're _not_ giving up!" Mikuro snapped. "Especially not when _my_ goals have to be put on hold."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way." But she always did this. Whenever things turned too difficult and she doubted her capabilities, Kaede gave up. By stopping to work on the jutsu, their expedition back to Konohagakure lasted until six in the morning. The sun was rising, changing the sky from an inky black to an almost pinkish hue.

"I'm going to figure it out on my own. I won't leave you waiting for too long, Mikuro- _kun_. If I can't get it to work by the end of the week, I'll sign up anyway." Maybe that would make him happy. The grumbling under his breath indicated otherwise.

' _What will it take to put you in a good mood again? I said I'd give you this. What on earth do you want from me?'_ At least Neyuki was a good sport about it, but he always was. "Can one of you walk me home?"

"Just let me do this _one little thing_ first," Mikuro growled, skulking off to head toward his house. By now, Kaede was seething. Mikuro was her pillar of support most of the time, but he also had it in him to crush her like nobody else.

Neyuki tapped her on the shoulder and offered a meek smile. "I don't mind walking you home, Kaede- _chan_!" he insisted. "Assuming you're fine with that. I know you two keep stuff from me, but–"

"Ssssssh, stop talking." Kaede put her finger to the boy's lips and took his hand, trotting her way back to her family's estate. Maybe they'd get there by daybreak. It was nice to hold Neyuki's hand, but she didn't much feel like conversing with anyone right now. She didn't even pay attention when he told her that her hand (despite being gloved) was hot.

Maybe she could practice with Mitsumi later and give her something to look at. Mitsumi had been so depressed since Nawaki died that she resigned from her squad. The last thing she needed was to think her best friend forgot about her. And if Mitsumi wouldn't step forward and be strong, maybe Kaede could vicariously be strong _for_ her.

Maybe that's what she needed: she could be a beacon of hope for once in her life and not give up, even when it was so easy to do so. ' _I've been a quitter my whole life. This one time, I don't want to quit. I'm just too tired to continue today. You misread me, Mikuro. You hurt me._ '

But she'd show him. She'd show Fugaku and Naho and everyone else who saw her as the clan's biggest quitter. They'd all be proven wrong…just not today.

"Maybe we can talk a _little_ , I guess," she murmured. "Neyuki- _kun_ , do you think I'm selfish?"

"Isn't everyone?" Neyuki retorted, but that wasn't what Kaede wanted to hear. "You're a people pleaser, Kaede- _chan_. You're only happy when everyone else is happy with you. Even then, sometimes it's not what you want and you hold back how you really feel. It's like you're almost afraid to express it." He didn't want to go overboard, but he'd picked up on some concerning behavior in her. "I worry about you sometimes. It's almost like you hold back because you're afraid we'll stop liking you."

Kaede paused, standing in place right outside the district. "That's…" Her heart thumped heavier than before. Before she could even stop them, fat tears welled up in her eyes. "Neyuki- _kun_ , that's _exactly_ how I…"

How long had he thought this? When did he pick up on it? She wasn't about to tell him that her own mother couldn't bring herself to love her. Naho "tried," in her own words, but it was clear she resented her daughter. Kaede threw her arms around her teammate, pulling him against her.

' _I can't get the boy I like to like me back. My family wants me to push more attention toward my cousin and he doesn't want to spend time with me, either. My best friend's too sad to notice when I'm around. My mother hates me. I'm lonely, Neyuki-kun. So lonely.'_

And this sweet creature saw her true self for how long? ' _I'm no better. I focused so much on Fugaku and Mikuro and Mitsumi that I've been keeping you at arm's length._ ' She then did what instinct told her to do and planted a kiss on his cheek. Warmth greeted her back and that told her even more. ' _You like me, don't you?'_

The Inuzuka boy cleared his throat, held out his arm for Kaede like a gentleman would, and murmured something about taking a lady home. The Uchiha girl chuckled, dabbing at her eyes and muttering apologies for being so mushy. "Nah, don't be! You can be honest with me! Everyone needs someone, right?"

"Yes…" Yes, they did.

Neyuki stopped right outside Uchiha Tenjin's property and noticed, just as Kaede had, that Naho was outdoors and training with a girl. "Is that girl over there a cousin of yours, Kaede- _chan_?"

Kaede recognized her immediately and frowned. "That's just Yuka. _Okaa-san_ trains her twice a week."

She knew all about Yuka. "Her family's nothing special anymore." Despite the fact Yuka's parents were once Kazusa's "left and right hand" and still held their ranks as Lieutenants in the Konohagakure Military Police Force, they had seen much better days. Both of them were legally blind, and Yuka's father had some mental issues on top of that.

Yuka herself had been a surprise to everyone. She learned more jutsu in less time than any other girl her age and mastered techniques that would even make some tokubetsu jōnin jealous with envy. She was still a genin, true, but that was more a matter of maturity than it was skill.

And Naho compared Kaede to Yuka all the damn time. Whenever Kaede failed to deliver to her mother's high expectations, hearing more about Yuka was inevitable. Kaede hated everything about her: the pierced ears, the eyeliner, her stylishly straight hair, that little _sneer_ she gave whenever she realized Kaede was watching…

Like right now. Yuka grinned and waved before returning to mock-ambush Kaede's mother. "Thanks for walking me home, Neyuki- _kun_ ," Kaede huffed, stomping indoors so she could seethe in private.

But it felt like more than that. The more she thought about Yuka and how satisfying it would be to do something that smug bitch _couldn't_ , the hotter her chest felt. A scorching ball of hate was in there, burning until it hurt.

Could it be? There was only one way to find out!

Kaede darted to the bathroom, shut the door, and turned off all the lights. She gasped in shock when she noticed a dim blue glow in the room. Gingerly, she unbuttoned her blouse, wondering if she were the source.

' _I am!_ ' The sensation was exhilarating. Kaede coughed, feeling a few tongues of ghostly blue fire leave. She laughed between the coughs, excited that at long last, she'd replicated the flames.

"…somebody was _in_ here," a hoarse old voice called from the back of the bathroom. "What are you doing with the lights off?"

Kaede froze in a combination of surprise and embarrassment. She'd been too excited to even notice her grandfather was in the room. Gingerly, she turned the switch back on and faced in the opposite direction so she could re-button her top. "I made blue fire today…" Once the last button was back in place, she turned to face the old man.

Tenjin sat in the bathtub. He'd had a book in his hands and was clearly annoyed that his moment of private meditation had been ruined by adolescent folly. "Good for you," he huffed. "You've told your mother, I presume?"

The girl smiled impishly, tiptoeing closer to her grandfather. It was the first time in ages where she felt comfortable enough in her own skin to approach him. "I think I'm going to wait. Can you keep my little secret? _Hm?"_


	33. Cracked

Somewhere in the debris, his teammates were buried and struggling to free themselves. Fugaku scrambled to push as many scattered rocks and pieces of broken buildings out of the way as he could, frantically attempting to reach the twins. He could hear one of them whimper in pain.

' _If you'd paid better attention, this never would have happened!'_ he internally chided himself. ' _You intentionally sabotaged this mission just because you didn't want to listen to Hiashi.'_ And if one of the Hyūga brothers died as a result of this, he'd never forgive himself. Sure, Hiashi could be a brat, but that didn't mean Fugaku wanted to see him die.

It didn't matter who led the mission; if they'd worked together as a team rather than bickering the whole way out here, they would have noticed how flimsy the ceiling was in this abandoned building. Their intel was wrong. The place was deserted; the buildings no longer serving as lodgings for anything more than wild animals. People hadn't lived here in months, maybe even years. This was a trap and nothing more.

"Keep talking!" Fugaku yelled, alarmed by the intensity of the silence around them. "I need to hear you to find you!"

"Over here," one of the twins groaned, "I'm stuck." Tone alone indicated this was probably Hizashi. Fugaku rushed over to where the voice came from and used all his strength to move a heavy bar away with all the dust and dry wood. Within a few seconds, he saw a familiar long ponytail flopped to the side.

Hizashi's neck was soaked in blood, courtesy of an ugly gash. ' _It's a miracle he didn't nick his carotid,'_ Fugaku noted, tearing a sleeve off his shirt so he could create a tourniquet for his friend's injury. As soon as Hizashi's upper body was free, he reached out and wrapped his arms around his teammate so Fugaku could pull him loose. "Where's His Royal Highness?"

Fugaku could still hear the faint cries of the other Hyūga boy buried deep within the debris. ' _He sounds injured.'_

That wasn't a good sign. Hiashi occasionally bitched when things didn't go his way, but he wasn't a crybaby. If he made any noise at all regarding an injury, it had to be bad.

"This is pointless," Fugaku growled. "Hizashi, can you use your byakugan to–"

Oh. He'd already done it and was in the process of using a bigger board to knock the smaller ones aside.

' _You're such a good brother to him._ ' And that was why he had to intervene and finish pulling Hiashi out. The fabric around Hizashi's neck turned crimson, completely soaked. That poor boy would pass out if his friend didn't intervene.

' _You picked a bad time to leave us alone, Buyo-sensei!'_ And yet he couldn't help but feel as though the Aburame man had done this a lot recently. He ducked out of the body disposal mission and now this. Yes, the team understood why. Shinobi defected and someone needed to eliminate the traitors, but why did it _always_ have to be their sensei specifically? Was he just that good?

Hiashi held out one arm for Fugaku and took a deep breath, wincing and groaning as the older boy finally freed him. He was filthier than his twin, covered in more dust and dirt, but his right leg was more than merely broken. ' _The bone's jutting out. How are you_ _ **not**_ _screaming right now?'_ Hell, Fugaku knew _he'd_ scream. "You…know we'll have to set it back, right?" The Hyūga heir's face turned pale at that.

…

 **It was just the nature of the beast. Tiny towns existed between warring nations. These little locations ended up becoming dumping grounds and battlefields because both sides incorrectly viewed it as no man's land. Whole lives, lines, and cultures became extinct or uprooted. Reports marked them as statistics: collateral damage.**

 **But every time he saw a "cry for help" mission, all Fugaku could think about was the time he, Nawaki, and Mitsumi made a difference in a smaller village. For two weeks, they helped a persecuted clan fight back against a mercenary group somebody paid to harass them.** ** _Who_** **paid, they didn't find out in time, but things seemed to be getting better in the Hidden Knolls.**

 **At least, that was what his correspondence letters to Chigusa of Koyamagakure told him. The Akane girl became his pen-pal and, as a result, shared a great amount of information about how her clan operated. They were outwardly very different from the Uchiha Clan, but the Akane Clan's struggle hit close to home. If their homeland could turn against them so viciously, it could happen to any other clan in any other village.**

 **That aside, this mission involved sending a team to protect a small farming commune on the Fire Country border. A retired samurai co-founded the settlement with his wife and guarded the land until he suffered a stroke. They merely needed a shinobi team to guard the commune from potential looters until the next battle took place far, far away.**

 **"One month doesn't seem so bad," Hizashi tried to persuade his brother. Hiashi wasn't terribly enthused with the prospect of being that far away from the Hyūga Estate for so long. So long as a mission involved staying within the borders (and so long as Hiashi could sleep in his own bed at the end of the day), the elder twin wouldn't complain. Anything else and he'd make a remark about Buyo ducking out on them.**

 **"It won't pay well," Buyo admitted. "This is an old farmer. I'll understand if you choose to decline." But he could see it in Fugaku's face. That boy carried the same strong sense of justice that his parents did. It ran in his blood and he wanted to make a difference, no matter how small and insignificant. "You want it?"**

 **"I do," Fugaku confessed. A change of scenery would be good. A change of scenery that didn't involve dead bodies would be even more welcome. "And if all we're doing is guarding a group of farmers from looters, I think we're capable."**

 **"I think so too." Buyo cracked his knuckles. A maggot wriggled just beneath his skin-tight turtleneck. "Though I think we need to break the routine a little. Fugaku." The Uchiha boy lifted his head. "Hiashi will be acting as my backup this time. You aren't the only future clan head on this team. He needs an opportunity to practice his leadership skills, too."**

 **Almost instantly, Hiashi was the most gung ho for protecting the commune. Fugaku recognized the power-hungry gleam in those glassy white eyes. More so, he recognized the way Hiashi grinned because he did the same thing.**

 **"So…" Ambition dripped in the Hyūga heir's voice. "When do we start?"**

 **…**

Hiashi attempted to dig his fingers into the ruined floor as Fugaku steadied the leg, trying to prep it for what came next. He huffed and puffed, trying his best to hold in the worst of what he felt. Those eyes didn't have to say anything. Fugaku _knew_ his teammate wanted to curse him.

"I know you aren't going to believe me when I tell you this, but I'm being as gentle as I can," Fugaku snapped. "It's alright if you want to scream or cry. I know it hurts."

"Screw you," Hiashi growled. "It _hurts_ , but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of seeing me react."

"The _what?_ The hell's wrong with you?"

Hiashi glowered, face flush with agony and annoyance. "Playing dumb doesn't suit you, Fugaku. You've hated me since you first met me."

"That's not true. I don't like the way you treat your brother, but that doesn't mean I hate you."

"You single me out," Hiashi continued, glowering. "You've questioned my judgment ever since Buyo- _sensei_ put me in charge." And in this regard, he was too keen for his own good. Fugaku _had_ questioned Hiashi's action plan, but only because it felt reckless and foolish. This explosion only proved his point—and it took a great amount of restraint to hold back from saying "I told you so"—but he could tell the Hyūga heir wasn't done chewing him out.

It didn't help that Hizashi fished out their medical pack and offered his brother a painkiller. The fact Hiashi wasn't delirious by now was a sheer miracle. To some extent, Fugaku was impressed. He had no idea the boy's pain threshold was that high. "And stop touching my leg! You're not a medic, Fugaku!"

"Nobody in this whole damn team is a medic," Fugaku retorted, "but it doesn't take a medical genius to figure out where a broken tibia's supposed to go." Hiashi's face broke into a pained sweat. Stray strands of dark hair stuck to his dirty brow, mixing with the rest of the grime.

"Do you want me to hold you?" Hizashi offered, not even waiting for a _yes_ to go over there and brace his brother. "Go ahead, Fugaku. Put the bone back." Hiashi stared at the Uchiha boy, visibly worried that he was actually going to do it.

When Fugaku started pushing on the bone, trying to get it to fit back into place, Hiashi could no longer maintain his stoic façade. After the initial howl, a nasty tapestry of obscenities spewed out of his lips for a solid minute and a half. Hizashi whispered soft words to his brother and stroked his hair, but Fugaku saw something else in those actions that ended up bringing a sick smile to his lips.

' _You little sadist. You're secretly enjoying this, aren't you?'_

Not that he could blame Hizashi too much, considering what sort of pain he experienced with that curse seal. This was merely the first time Hiashi tasted such suffering firsthand, and his brother wanted to relish the moment. There was not telling how long it would be before Hiashi felt pain like this again.

By the time Fugaku placed Hiashi's leg into a makeshift splint, the brat was worn out and barely able to talk or move. "Take the medicine your brother's trying to give you," Fugaku demanded. Hiashi gave him a dirty look, eyes stained with tears, and spat at him. "Fine. _Suffer_. See if I care. Hizashi."

"Yes?"

"It's getting dark. Maybe we should grab what we need to build a fire." And from there, they could cook up some rations. Fugaku honestly didn't care what they did, so long as he left Hiashi before he lost his temper with him.

…

"What if we ditch him?" Fugaku proposed, feeling only mildly ashamed for catering such a vicious notion.

Hiashi knew which buttons to push in order to irritate his Uchiha teammate. They'd been gasoline and fire ever since that first encounter. Hiashi may have been somebody Fugaku would have wanted to befriend, had it not been for how he treated Hizashi.

Hizashi grew on him in ways Fugaku never anticipated. This was someone with whom he could bare his whole heart and it delighted him to know the younger twin felt the same way. Whenever Hiashi wasn't around to domineer and belittle his brother, Hizashi became far more outspoken.

"I had the same thought," Hizashi confessed. "Shame it won't change anything." His eyes went toward a stack of dry and brittle support beams. They'd make good kindling. "Even if he dies, I can't take his place as heir apparent. The brand never comes off. Truth is…I'm _stuck_."

"I hate how he treats you. He has no right." Just thinking about how many times Fugaku watched Hiashi abuse his younger brother made his blood boil. And Hizashi was far from stupid. He knew his twin had the power to kill him with a simple hand sign. It's why he never fought back. "If _I_ had a brother, I wouldn't…I'd _never_ …"

Hizashi's expression softened as he placed his hand to Fugaku's wrist. "The Hyūga Clan is one of the strongest in the village. Surely you know this by now. Few families can endure with grace and dignity anywhere near as strongly as we do." Not that Hiashi showed that today.

"Yeah, and mine's _supposed_ to. He just… _ugh_ …I'm so tempted to leave his sorry ass behind and see what happens."

"But we can't." Hizashi's voice turned quieter at that, more grave. "We both know that. You say that, but I know you. If we actually did it, you'd turn around and get him later. You'd feel too guilty to go through with abandoning him." Fugaku didn't appear convinced. "Do you want to know why I sound so sure?" He continued to speak with such gentleness in his voice. "I _know_ because I hear the pain in your voice every time you talk about your first team."

"Nawaki died. That's–"

"It's there when you talk about Mitsumi- _san_ , too. You're proud and you take leadership seriously. That's why I know you'll never leave a teammate, even if you're angry with them."

The byakugan was supposed to see through bodies and lay bare the chakra network inside. It wasn't supposed to look through to the very soul. Why, then, was it that Hizashi carried such moments of insight and clarity? "Hiashi's the same way. It doesn't matter how often you two butt heads; he'd never leave you behind."

Hizashi's smile was meek and sincere as he carried what was needed to keep the team warm overnight. Winter was quickly approaching. As the sun set, the temperature dramatically dropped. Both boys could see the fog in their breaths and knew they'd need that fire. "Come on. He's probably too sore to give you any more lip tonight."

' _You told me once that you don't have it in you to be a leader,'_ Fugaku thought, ' _but here I am, following your lead.'_

This one time, Hizashi stepped forward and talked his friend down from doing something foolish…and Fugaku was grateful for that. Not everyone had it in them to lead, but it took a very special sort of soul to be patient and understanding enough to become a voice of reason.

"Alright. Once he's well enough to walk, we go home. This mission was a bust, anyway. I'm just trying to figure out–what is it now?"

Hizashi shook his head and yanked Fugaku's arm, pulling him nearer. "Hiashi's not alone." His byakugan was on. The young branch member poised himself, ready to attack. "I'm detecting at least six people in there… _fighting_ him." A little closer and Fugaku could make out the shadows. Hizashi was right; there were other people in the ruin, but–

"This doesn't make any sense to me. We searched the area. There were no signs of life. Now, suddenly–" Hiashi's loud yell of pain caught Fugaku's ears and without even thinking about it, he found himself rushing toward the rickety building. That scream sounded too much like Hizashi's for his comfort.

In that moment, Hizashi's words about Fugaku proved to be true; no matter how angry he was with Hiashi earlier, it all fell to the wayside the instant he believed his teammate to be in any serious danger.

In one hand, he had a ceramic shuriken at the ready. They'd served him well over the past two years and worked wonders on something as soft as a human being's gut…or thigh. Whatever fleshy part was most convenient to strike at the time would suffice. Whatever it hit, he'd draw blood.

The smaller shadow staggered, occasionally pausing to shiver and straighten itself out. ' _Idiot! He shouldn't stand on a broken leg!'_ Sure enough, that had to be Hiashi; Fugaku recognized the stance. ' _Is he trying to–'_

The largest shadow flew halfway through a window, shoved backwards by the sheer force of Hiashi's technique. A tall scarecrow of a man hit the glass, but he didn't make it all the way outside. His back became lodged with the glass and windowpane, impaling him from behind. He squirmed and twitched, but it wouldn't take much to finish him off.

"Go help your brother," Fugaku urged Hizashi, not that he had to tell him to do anything. The younger Hyūga was already on his way to pair off alongside his twin brother and fight the rest of this unwelcome crowd. "Drag them outside if you can."

He placed the edge of the shuriken against the impaled man's neck. Surprisingly, the man froze in place. "I want answers," Fugaku demanded, sharingan on. "Talk now or–" A squat old woman wielding a shovel swung her weapon at him, causing him to move several feet away from his would-be hostage. A swift push to the center of the woman's back and Hiashi had her flop to the ground.

"I guess that makes two of us who let our guard down today," Hiashi huffed, grimacing from pain; but there was a burning, unrelenting pride on his dirty face. "Let's take the rest of them down before you start interrogating."

This time, Fugaku wouldn't argue. It took a lot of balls to continue fighting with a busted leg: balls he was fairly sure he didn't have. "Sir. _Yes, sir_."

…

 ** _It took us ten minutes to subdue what turned out to be eight assailants. Hiashi was a reckless leader, but it's nothing that a little more maturity and experience won't fix._**

Placing the pen down, Fugaku leaned back in his chair until he couldn't stretch any further. It felt so nice to be home and in his own room. From his window, he could see Mi- _chan_ and a few of the neighbor kids chasing each other. Perhaps later he'd be able to tell them about how a boy not that much older than them saved him from getting brained with a shovel.

Mikoto would find it funny, but it certainly wasn't at the time. Fugaku agreed to submit the report on why the mission failed. All the twins wanted to do was rest. This wasn't that, though; this was a letter to Buyo to recap what happened in his absence.

Hiashi could use the "you two left me alone with a broken leg to fend for myself" defense to get away with anything (other than harassing Hizashi) until the end of the calendar year, Fugaku decided. Considering his actions, he'd damn well earned it.

 ** _The strangest part of this mission, surprisingly enough, wasn't watching Hiashi fight using nothing but willpower to keep himself from collapsing. It was finding out that the people who attacked us were the same people who requested the mission._**

 ** _Despite the request reaching our village only one week ago, it was originally written in early spring. It took that long for us to respond since their plight wasn't deemed a high priority. Their lands were ravaged months ago and they lacked the resources to rebuild. Soon afterward, their leader died._**

 ** _Nearby chaos made it impossible to leave the area, but just as impossible to survive without making great sacrifice. Starved, scared, and eventually deranged, these people finally gave in to basic instinct and left all dignity behind._**

 _'I almost pity them,'_ he realized, but that was nothing compared to the adrenaline rush he'd received working with the twins to subdue these people. They were practically zombies by the time the team arrived: ravenous and barely human.

The way the youngest one (a boy around Mikoto's age) stared at them was enough to give Fugaku nightmares. Children weren't supposed to look at other people like _meat_. That child's smile held no warmth or sweetness to it, but merely the relief of an assured full stomach in the next few hours.

Was this what battles did to nearby civilian areas? These were a peaceful people once, simply living off the land; but the horror only intensified once Fugaku decided to interrogate their assailants with a genjutsu.

 ** _During my interrogation, one of the women admitted to sacrificing her seven-year-old son so the rest of the commune could eat. Another man admitted that every time he saw a stranger come toward the ruins, they'd ambush this person (plunderer and innocent alike) and tear them apart._**

 ** _In both cases, blunt force trauma to the head (usually by a shovel) was the means used to kill. It wasn't effective and oftentimes required multiple blows, but no better tools were available without confronting the nearby shinobi, which these poor farmers were too afraid to attempt._**

 ** _With his broken leg, Hiashi was mistaken for weak prey. The farmers gave up hope a long time ago that anyone would come to help them. By the time we arrived, they forced us to do the exact opposite._**

Outside, the children started to disperse. Mikoto, however, acquired a rotten pumpkin from one of the older kids and chose to hide in the bushes, waiting for the perfect moment to prank an unsuspecting adult. An impish brightness filled her eyes, not that Fugaku could tell from upstairs. Perhaps if he peeped from his balcony, that would change, but he wished to finish this letter before his parents came home.

Maybe, if he was fortunate, Kazusa or Sarani would be on the receiving end of Mikoto's pumpkin and buy him more time.

 ** _It appears I misjudged Hiashi. I disagree with most of his actions and I'll never be comfortable with the way he treats Hizashi. I still see him as an entitled brat and believe he has a long way to go before he'll be a decent leader, but I can't shake the image of him fighting and holding his own, broken leg be damned._**

 ** _Such a person may be worthy of my respect after all. At the very least, he'll need to be watched more carefully and given more chances to lead._**

 _'And maybe Hizashi and I can make him change his mind about how to treat the branch members.'_ If they pushed hard enough (and if Hizashi continued to be his usual gentle, insightful, rational self), then perhaps his generation would be the last one to wear that mark.

 ** _You would have been proud of him, Sensei, but I must ask you for a favor._**

Even without looking, he knew who Mikoto's victim was by sound alone. No one else in the neighborhood had a mouth anywhere near as foul as Sanjo's. It didn't matter that Mikoto was seven. Sanjo swore at her until his face threatened to turn purple, all because she doused him in rotten food.

The girl cried and kicked him when she realized her little joke didn't merit a laugh. She even dared to call Sanjo a bully, which in turn made him chase her down the street. ' _Do grow up, would you?'_

 ** _I ask that you hide the outcome of this mission from my parents. Say nothing about it and especially don't tell them that we had to destroy the commune and everyone in it._**

It was difficult to sign his name at the bottom. Somehow, placing his name to the request made it all the more real. Eight people died so the three of them could come back alive. The village never needed to find out.

They'd learned by Buyo's example. These people were beyond saving, but such an action could change the way they were viewed by everyone else. Although Hiashi made the decision first, Fugaku and Hizashi were every bit as complicit in the extermination.

 ** _I don't want them to think any less of us, but it needed to be done._**


	34. Merit

"Hiashi's out of commission until his leg heals," Hizashi explained, knowing full well Fugaku was about to ask him why the other twin didn't report for duty. "Do you know anyone who would be willing to work with us on a few missions until he recovers?"

This was problematic, but not exactly unprecedented. Fugaku knew all about being on-call. He and Mitsumi both served such a role before Nawaki came along. He knew a few other people like that. "There's a girl in my clan training to join the Konohagakure Military Police Force. She already cut ties with her team."

That caught Hizashi's attention. "Don't her parents have to sign off for her to do something like that?" He was even more curious when Fugaku nodded his head. "They were fine with it?"

"They didn't even hesitate," Fugaku admitted. "Both of Yuka's parents are Police Force Lieutenants," not to mention Kazusa's left and right hands. "Even my mother didn't try to talk her out of joining." If anything, he suspected she welcomed Yuka with open arms.

"How old is she?"

"She's a year older than me," and she had a reputation for being strong, proud, and competitive. "So if you don't mind working with a thirteen-year-old girl who could kick your–"

Hizashi laughed, giving Fugaku an elbow to the ribs. "I'd like to see her _try_."

…

It didn't take much imagination to figure out where Uchiha Yuka went to train. Her parents emphasized that kendo was a skill they very much wished to pass down to their daughter, so they enrolled her in a dojo three times a week to practice with a master expert. Every match, she became quicker and deadlier…and prouder, considering she'd invited Mikoto along to watch the spar.

Just in case things turned ridiculous (as Yuka loved to gamble), Fugaku asked Hizashi to accompany him along for this request. Mikoto merrily waved at the two boys and gestured for them to watch the match with her.

"Are you Fugaku- _nii_ 's teammate?" Mikoto inquired, beaming as the boy nodded. "Nice to meet you! I'm his favorite person in the clan. Yuka _-senpai's_ , too." There was an impish smile on her face as she noticed Fugaku squirm. "I'm _everyone's_ favorite."

"She's not," Fugaku whispered to Hizashi, who found it difficult to contain his amusement. "Mi- _chan's_ –"

"Enough with the chit-chat already. You're distracting me!" Yuka playfully barked from the center of the room. She performed a couple of fascinating maneuvers with her wooden practice sword, clearly showing off by spinning and twirling the practice weapon with the dexterity of a master. Mikoto was entranced, eyes locked on Yuka's every motion.

Fugaku observed with his sharingan on, knowing damn well Yuka didn't know he'd activated it. Hizashi noticed, however, and nudged him. A devious little smile threatened to break through on his face because he could already see where this was going.

"So," Yuka called out as she briefly propped herself up with her practice sword. "Why is Kazusa _-taichou's_ beloved son here? Did you come here to watch me win or simply to throw off my A-game?"

' _Arrogant girl,'_ Fugaku thought, but that was part of her charm. Yuka was ambitious. He liked that. Not to mention she dressed and acted slightly older than she actually was, which also intrigued him. The pierced ears, heavy eye makeup, dark lipstick, and dyed blue streak in her hair gave her a trendier appearance than Kaede, who was more traditional and delicate.

As cool as he thought she looked, her confidence burned the brightest. "I came here to ask if you'd want to temporarily join my team. Hizashi's brother broke his leg on our last mission and needs to recuperate before he returns to service."

Yuka didn't answer right away, mostly because the dojo master came at her with his sword. She blocked it, swearing something under her breath about distractions. "Did you talk to your old teammate first? She's able-bodied and–"

"I'm giving Shinohara her space." It was the kindest thing he could do for Mitsumi, he felt. If all his presence did was cause her further grief, then he needed to give her time to mourn without him around to make things worse.

"GO, SENPAI, GO!" Mikoto cheered, shaking her fists with excitement.

The finale was enough to leave Fugaku speechless. Yuka and her master charged at each other, ready to clash. She hit the old man's practice sword with enough force to splinter it, breaking it in two. From there, she spun around and got him in the lower back. She was _fast_ , dangerously so.

"I'll admit it. I'm impressed," Hizashi confessed. "Her Taijutsu is very impressive."

"So's my Ninjutsu!" Yuka boasted, holding her sword up in the air. "I bet I could match your Gentle Fist with this thing! Wanna give it a go?" Hizashi folded his arms and scowled. Clearly his admiration for her took a huge blow by hearing such a rude, boisterous suggestion.

Fugaku stepped forward, feeling his own ambition threatening to boil over. "I want to propose something else. Give me a practice sword."

"Get it yourself. I'm not taking orders from you until you're clan head," Yuka retorted, pointing to the corner of the dojo. "Go on. They're right over there." Fugaku moved to grab two, offering Yuka a new one to practice with, and made the stance. "The hell, Fugaku? You don't practice kendo."

"I know that, but you make it look so _easy_ ," he teased, knowing that insulting the difficulty of her mastery would rattle her. Yuka's eye twitched. "How about we place a wager on the outcome of this match? If I defeat you, you'll take Hiashi's place on my team until he recovers."

Yuka's entire face seemed to go alight, flush with an opportunity to fight the future leader of her clan. "Deal," she agreed, "but if I kick your ass, you're taking me on a date."

Mikoto gasped, covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide open in mock-terror. Inside, that child was wickedly amused. Hizashi, on the other hand, rolled his eyes and muttered something about bossy girls being a major turn-off.

Fugaku saw this as an opportunity to teach Yuka a lesson in humility, but also a chance to see how well he'd come with using his sharingan since August. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Your move, your highness," the Uchiha girl jeered, blocking his first action with ease. "Aw, you're predictable! I could probably take you down with one arm tied behind my back!" And to be a pain, she blocked him again. And _again_. "Tell me when you start taking this match seriously. _Then_ I'll give my all."

Hizashi watched the toy swords fly, finding it difficult to keep up with Yuka's motions. That girl had studied this for years, apparently. Fugaku looked to be an ill-matched amateur by comparison, but Hizashi knew his teammate well enough by now to know how this would end…or at least what Fugaku's strategy was.

" _Ne_ , Hizashi- _san_? Who are you rooting for?" Mikoto asked, tugging on the boy's black sleeve. "Fugaku- _nii_ or Yuka- _senpai_?"

"I believe in my friend, Mikoto- _chan_. What about you?" The little girl gestured for him to put his ear to her mouth so she could whisper something. "…ah. I see. _That's_ why she's acting that way…"

"Try harder, would you!? You're insulting me!"

"Then how come you haven't hit me yet?" Fugaku countered. Now was the time to take action. Yuka was good and annoyed by now. She'd attack, he'd match it with the sharingan, and show her that–

 _Shit_. _She had it, too_.

…

Hizashi wandered off to get Fugaku an ice pack for his bruised neck. Yuka straightened up the practice swords, shaking her head and murmuring her annoyances under her breath. Fugaku clearly heard "cheat" and "easy win" and "crutch" in Yuka's half-private conversation with herself.

The older girl eventually marched over to the two boys, arms folded. "I'll back up Hiashi until his leg's better," she conceded. "I know I said I wouldn't do that unless I lost, but…" The girl shrugged her shoulders. "I want you to know that I'm deeply disappointed in you."

"Why? Because you _won_?" It was slightly disturbing how a little makeup could make Yuka's eyes all the more scary when she glared. Her eyes narrowed even more and Fugaku noticed a slight snarl come from those plum-painted lips. "What is it?"

"You cheated," she hissed. "I intentionally keep my sharingan off unless I'm in real combat, and do you know why?"

No, but he had a feeling she was going to tell him anyway.

"The sharingan's a crutch. Any Uchiha who solely relies on it won't remember how to perform what they copied in the past if they're blinded or compromised. It cheapens all the hard work and effort we put into muscle memory. I've studied kendo since I was in kunoichi preschool and you treated it like a joke."

Her fingers were cold when she placed them to his face, lifting his jaw so he could look her in the eye. "You'll be leading our clan someday, but let me make something clear. I'm only going to kneel to an _admirable_ leader, not some sneaky cheat who looks for easy ways to win."

"I take this to mean you don't want me to take you on that date, then?"

"Oh, you're still doing that, but it's going to be three times more expensive than I originally planned."

…

She was the highest ranking female officer active in the KMPF. Yuka carried the armband of a police lieutenant and wore it with great pride, having climbed the ranks to take over the Vice department. Most of the men were intimidated by her and walked in the opposite direction if they saw her coming. Fugaku didn't. Typically, the two of them would smirk at each other, grumble a couple of insincere insults under their breath, and part ways.

Today, he'd invited her to meet him outside to propose something during her smoke break. "Those are murder on your lungs," Fugaku pointed out.

Yuka snorted out a laugh and rolled her eyes. "Dying's part of the whole shinobi experience, Fugaku. I don't think a little cancer stick's gonna be what kills me. What did you want to discuss?"

"Yukari." Her daughter, in other words. "Yashiro brought to my attention that he'd like to see her marry into my family someday." Just to mess with her, he added one teasing quip to see her reaction. "I told him Sasuke's too young."

"You're fucking around with me again." Whenever Yuka was irked, her tone tended to carry a slightly threatening edge to it: like a cat growling that it was tired of being picked up. If a joke went too far, she could be downright terrifying. It was one of many reasons their relationship didn't last. "You want to put her with Itachi?"

"I'm on the fence about that," he confessed. "Yashiro's more for it than I am, but he had my ear." Fugaku didn't know how to break it to her, but Yukari didn't have all the traits he wanted in a potential daughter-in-law. She was a nice girl and very pretty, but not very bright. A girl like that was going to be an ill match for his son.

"Were she more like you, then _perhaps_ , but…" He shook his head. "I'm giving my son the option to select his own wife, provided she's within the clan. I refuse to give your daughter preferential treatment, just because she's yours."

"You mean to tell me she'll have to win him over in her own right?" Yuka took a long drag from her cigarette, letting the tobacco smoke fill her lungs. " _Good_."

Her reaction amused him, as did other parts of her personality. This woman, perhaps more than anyone else in the clan, had always believed from the bottom of her heart that merit paid off in the end. Hard work, talent, dedication, and effort would be put into consideration and the most qualified and deserving person would come out on top.

But it hadn't been Fugaku who proved her wrong in this regard. _Mikoto was_.

"Your boys deserve the best. If my daughter isn't the best, then she shouldn't have either one of them. Was there anything _else_?"


	35. Reignition

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

When I use the phrase, "writing to the void," I'm fairly certain a lot of you fellow authors will know what I mean. It's a common feeling: you get pumped over your writing, and then you post it. At first, you feel giddy because the chapter was one of your favorites. You're certain others will enjoy reading it every bit as much as you enjoyed writing it…and then nothing happens.

Maybe one or two people hit the like button without leaving a review. If you're lucky, you'll receive a review, but that's it. It's underwhelming, and few things can kill your writing mojo quite like apathetic readers can.

If you're a reader and you enjoy a story, please let the writer know via a review or even just a "like" that you enjoyed their work. If you're simply reading in the shadows and never let an author know you've enjoyed their work, they won't know you exist and assume there's nobody reading.

This is why I wanted to post this note. I've had one very persistent and positive reader (Marquis de Nile) who has provided gracious reviews and feedback for almost every chapter. We've never had a two-way conversation, but I wanted to let you know that you aren't reviewing to the void. I read every single one of your reviews. You're the main reason this story gets updated far more regularly than my others!

Thank you for all your kind words. That goes for every reviewer I've had thus far, not just the Marquis. You're all great and I'm very grateful you stumbled across the _Vines_ anthology.

You've been a delightful group of readers so far. Thank you so much for reading my story and I hope you'll continue to do so for many installations to come. There's well over 100 chapters (and counting). There's even some multiparter story arcs coming up in fewer than 5 chapters from now, so stay tuned!

…

Everyone else would be on missions by now. If somebody surprised her with a visit, perhaps she could ask them what the sunrise looked like today.

It was already eleven and Mitsumi had slept a solid eleven hours. Had her father known, he'd be worried, but the village needed highly productive weapon smiths. During war time, Shinohara Kinzo's hours started at 3:30 AM.

Back when she still had a team, Mitsumi occasionally treated her teammates to a surprise breakfast before a particularly strenuous mission. Nawaki came to expect it after a while and took Mitsumi's generosity for granted. So whose fault was it, really, that one time Mitsumi didn't make breakfast and Nawaki felt weak for the rest of the day? Nawaki whined until Mitsumi told him to shut his yap.

They bickered sometimes, but it was never anything too serious. Nawaki never slapped her with a scathing, hurtful comment she couldn't recover from. She demanded he grow up and show some more maturity, but that wasn't an acidic retort. Teammates bickered sometimes; it was merely a fact of life. So why did she continue to torture herself with that same nagging thought: **_I was so mean to him_**?

The smell of egg, chopped pepper, onion, and ham filled the kitchen, slowly waking her up and creating a new fog to replace the mental one leftover from her dreary dream.

In her dream, Mitsumi lay on the hospital bed and stared listlessly at some pointless TV program. All she heard was white noise, even when Fugaku came by to talk to her. The whole world turned to static. She felt it in her body, heard it in her ears, and saw it in her eyes. Every last part of her, including her brain, felt like a foot that fell asleep.

' _I haven't seen you in almost five months,'_ she realized, sprinkling some salt and pepper onto her creation. With the omelet plopped on her plate, all she had to do was clean up after eating.

Still in her cheery yellow bathrobe, Mitsumi pulled out a chair for herself and picked at her meal. Across from her, catching the attention of her brown eyes, was an empty chair. Lately, the only person who occasionally filled that chair was Kaede, but even those visits were becoming more infrequent.

' _I know you're busy, but…'_

…

"…but I wanted to make lunch for you." She'd dressed herself and combed all the tangles out of her unruly auburn hair. "You must be starving by now." Mitsumi held out the bento for her father, feeling the heat of the forge in the background. As cold as it was outside, Kinzo's workspace always felt like the heart of a volcano.

The heat reminded her of all the different Katon techniques Fugaku used on their old missions, back when they were still a team. Her mind wandered back with a faint whiff of nostalgia, remembering the earthy smell of ashes after they set an abandoned house alight as part of a reconstruction mission.

There was always security in heat, either from her father or her friend. "How about it, _otou-san_? Think you can spare twenty minutes or so to eat with me?"

Kinzo put his tools down and wiped his sweaty brow. "You didn't have to do that, sweetheart. I wanted to give you more time to sleep, so…" He pointed to a bento in the corner. "Don't worry about me, alright? I'm covered."

' _That's not the point.'_ Instead of stating this aloud, Mitsumi slowly nodded her head and stepped out, leaving the meal behind.

Kinzo's hours had almost doubled, and he'd been a hardworking man for as far back as his daughter could remember. ' _I know why.'_ Although he was too proud to state it outright, and probably wouldn't admit it to his daughter, Mitsumi strongly suspected this had everything to do with her resignation.

' _It's because I quit.'_ All that extra income was now gone, not that genin ever made much. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father place a cool wet rag to his grimy brow. ' _You look so tired…'_ Her heart pounded with guilt.

…

"As soon as I felt it, I ran back indoors, locked myself in the bathroom, turned out the lights, and took my top off. I saw the glow, Mitsumi. There was a _glow_ , blue and beautiful and–" Kaede's cheeks turned rosy as she snorted out a mildly embarrassed giggle. "I had no idea my grandfather was bathing in there! He yelled at me, but I think he's proud. I mean, _I'm_ proud!"

Somewhere along the way, they'd swapped roles. Kaede used to be the listener. That or she'd confide what was bothering her, thank Mitsumi for listening, and carry on as her quiet and sweet self. Lately, Mitsumi had been the melancholic one. She wasn't sure how it happened, but something finally galvanized her friend and surged her with new ambition and pride. This new Kaede was something the old one had never been: confident and sure of herself.

"You should be," Mitsumi agreed. They'd taken a stroll in the park together, watching the last of the autumn leaves fall to the ground. It made her think of one of their earliest missions, just her and Fugaku. They were given a D-Rank to rake leaves. When it was all over, they raced each other to see who could hit the big pile first. That boy seemed to _float_ before he landed, sending leaves every which way. The dead things took flight in golds, rusts, and bronzes, only to hit the ground again and demand to be raked a second time.

Now some newer genin were doing that. ' _Enjoy it while you can,'_ the freckled girl thought, a tiny smile passing her lips. "You're growing into a strong kunoichi, Kaede. Your whole clan's going to be proud."

"I doubt that," Kaede growled under her breath. "So long as my mother insists on training Yuka instead of me, I have a rival." And Mitsumi knew how hot Kaede's hatred for Yuka burned. She'd known about it since preschool.

As Kaede continued to talk, it didn't matter how much her eyes lit up or her face took on a flustered and happy hue. Mitsumi couldn't shake the white noise. All Kaede's chatter turned into static. Somewhere in that blur, Mitsumi remained lucid enough to nod along and offer a word or two in agreement with everything coming from her friend's mouth, not that she believed Kaede cared or noticed.

A vending machine at the edge of the park dragged her back to the present. Mitsumi stopped walking and felt a tiny bit of warmth in her heart. "Hey…Kaede…remember this place?"

"Hm?" Kaede had half-squatted to grab her bottle of sweet coffee from the vending machine. She tossed a can of melon soda to Mitsumi as a treat. Mitsumi's reflexes hadn't gone slack over the past few months. She caught the can with one hand. That came as a pleasant surprise to both. "We come here all the time."

"We chose to meet here for Mikuro's birthday last year," Mitsumi reminded her, sitting on the park bench. "It was the first snow of the year." They could see the Hokage Mountain in the background. "We were all together, _all of us_ …"

"So we were." There was a slightly guarded tone in Kaede's voice. "What's your point?"

"Mikuro got really mad over something. He sloshed hot tea all over Fugaku and…" It wasn't right to have a case of the giggles, but she couldn't shake them. "We used to get riled up over the stupidest things, didn't we? If we'd known that one of us wouldn't be there by that following August, then–"

Kaede wasn't amused. Her arms were folded, her brow furrowed. "Fugaku came home with scalds on his chest and our clan head had a _panic attack._ And Mikuro- _kun_ was aiming for Nawaki because Nawaki insulted his father." The way she said Nawaki's name…it sounded like a swear word and had about as much impact on her friend. "You find _that_ funny? What's wrong with you?"

"I'm just missing certain people, Kaede. There's no reason to get so wound up."

"That whole thing was Nawaki's fault," Kaede snapped. "You didn't see Kazusa- _taichou_ afterward. You didn't see _Mikuro-kun_ afterward. You don't…you have no idea…"

' _You like him,'_ Mitsumi realized. She saw it in Kaede's ruddy face and heard it in her overly defensive tone. ' _I don't know why you do. He's an ass, but there it is._ _ **You like him**_ _.'_ And suddenly it struck her as unfair and cruel that, if this were true, Kaede chose to date the _other_ teammate. Did that poor boy even know? She may have liked Kaede's new confidence, but she didn't like this new streak of selfishness that came along with it.

And Kaede wasn't finished. "Did you ever stop to wonder why no one other than your team liked that kid?" They had some very nice kids in their class who made a point to invite Nawaki along, but most were too nice to admit what they really felt. "He said things when he really shouldn't have and he kept secrets from people who trusted him."

"Kaede, he's dead. If he upset you, it's not like he can apologize to you now. There's no point in–"

" _You_ didn't like him until he died, either," Kaede hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at her friend, "so stop acting like you did! You aren't fooling anybody."

Mitsumi squeezed her soda can, feeling the cool aluminum slightly crunch. If she squeezed it too hard, it would burst, but what gave Kaede the right to talk to her like this? They were friends, for heaven's sake! "He's _dead_. That changes everything. Don't you have any respect for the dead?"

A dry, mocking laugh left Kaede's lips as she opened her coffee and took a swig. When she laughed like that, she sounded exactly like her mother. "Oh, I do, but I'm only going to give them the same amount of respect I gave them in life. It isn't like Senju Nawaki died and became a saint, Mitsumi. You shouldn't remember him as anything more than a loud and annoying crybaby who babbled about being Hokage and used my cousin as a novelty friend.

"I remember a _certain someone_ inviting me out for sushi, just so she could complain when she found out Nawaki was gonna be on her team," Kaede seethed. "I remember about one fourth of our sleepovers turned into you ranting and raving about your team, and it was _never_ about my cousin."

"Kaede, you're–" Did Kaede have any idea how hurtful this was? Right before the end, Mitsumi wanted to believe that she and Nawaki were starting to be friends. He'd come over for breakfast sometimes. When he said something that crossed the line and upset her, he'd apologize.

But there was some bitter truth in what Kaede had to say and it was a truth Mitsumi didn't want to face. Maybe she _hadn't_ liked him and that made her feel like the most horrible person on the planet…and that was probably why she gave Kaede a push strong enough to knock her to the ground.

Kaede stared up at her with big wet eyes, stunned that her best friend would physically shove her like this. "I just want you to stop torturing yourself so I can have my friend back. Mitsumi, I…"

Mitsumi wanted to scream. She wanted to shout all kinds of awful things at Kaede, just so she'd know these words weren't welcome. _Kaede wanted her friend back_. "I'm _still_ your friend, Kaede. I've been here this whole time." And yet it felt as though the rest of her old world wanted to move on without her. "You can tell the others that, too."

As she walked away, she could hear Kaede crying, whimpering apologies and that she didn't mean it. **_Please don't be mad_** , she'd always say.

She had no idea Nawaki used to say the same exact thing.

…

"Is anyone coming with you this time? Kaede- _chan_ , perhaps?"

The sushi chef behind the bar counter, Watanabe Arata, was practically an old friend by now. Mitsumi used to come here with Kaede after Kunoichi Preschool and Academy at least once a week as a treat for good grades. After losing her mother, coming out here became even more important to her. She'd come to rely on her best friend's company, perhaps far too much.

Though now it dawned on her that maybe Kaede relied too much on her, too. **_Please don't be mad. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!_** The words rang in her head until it hurt, but she kept a calm face for the old man behind the counter.

"Or your teammates?"

Last February, she introduced Fugaku and Nawaki to this little hole in the wall. Nawaki stuffed his face and proclaimed it the best unagi he'd ever put in his mouth. Fugaku and Tohru had given business to a different sushi bar for years. Fugaku admitted this to Mitsumi, but conceded this one met his standards, too. They'd then devolved into a petty half-hearted argument, mostly for the sake of playful debate. Fugaku loved debate and so did Mitsumi, if only to see Fugaku's slightly-playful side come out.

' _You liked it here,'_ she thought, her heart performing an unwanted backflip. "Kaede and I had a fight today," she admitted, "and I haven't seen Fugaku since I left the hospital." Old Man Arata appeared shocked beyond belief. "I'm by myself this time. Is that alright, Arata- _san_?"

"Out of all the kids who come here for sushi, you've always been a personal favorite," Arata teased. "Why would I mind? So, what will it be this time? Your usual crunchy crab roll, or something a bit more adventurous?" Mitsumi murmured that Arata could surprise her, placing out the money in advance for the food. She knew how much she wanted.

"Did you know? We tried our best to meet together at least once a week, just to catch up and see how everyone's doing." Her voice started to crack as she stared down at her brewing pot of jasmine tea. This time, even the most delicious scent in the world couldn't cheer her up. "I miss them _so much._ I don't know if they've dumped me or if they stopped altogether, but we haven't met since Nawaki died. It's like I lost more than my teammate. I've lost everyone."

And it was Mitsumi's turn to pick the place. She'd bring everyone to Watanabe Sushi the instant the tradition gained momentum again, assuming it ever would. "I'm falling out of touch and I'm not sure how much of it's my fault. I've tried a few times, but maybe I haven't tried hard enough. Or maybe they can't relate to me anymore and all I do is bring up bad memories."

They just carried on with their lives. Kaede's world consisted of preparing for the Chūnin Exams, going on dates with a boy who had no clue she didn't love him back, and practicing her family's secret techniques. Fugaku set himself up with a brand new team only _weeks_ after the funeral. Mikuro wouldn't even make eye contact with her.

"Did I tell you? After I lost one teammate, my other one set up a new team." Sure, she'd told Fugaku that she had no plans of coming back as a kunoichi, but that hadn't meant she'd stick to that forever. Lately, she'd considered taking a few decryption assignments at home, just for some extra income and to keep her best skill sharp, but she was too proud to tell Fugaku that.

But maybe she'd admit it to him the next time he visited. He hadn't in five months. "I'm not expecting anyone," she murmured, almost like a mantra. ' _And even if I do come back, there's no place for me by your side anymore.'_

…

Old Man Arata prepared a second roll for Mitsumi as a surprise, placing it in a takeout box along with a packet of low-sodium soy and a wad of wasabi and pickled ginger. She'd thanked him and even gave the old man a hug as a token of thanks.

Perhaps tomorrow she could have a heart-to-heart with Kaede and tell her exactly what she'd done to trigger so much rage. Kaede never experienced the death of a close companion. She was best friends with somebody with a dead mother, a dead cat, and a dead teammate. Death was a very sensitive thing for Mitsumi and a little sensitivity to the situation was all she asked for…and Kaede didn't give it.

Maybe tomorrow, she'd work up the nerve to track Fugaku down when his mission with Team Buyo concluded and confess to him that he was the person she missed the most. She thought about the leaf raking mission again and how playful his smile used to be. Was he even capable of smiling like that anymore? Would his new teammates see it? Mitsumi looked down at the sushi and sighed. ' _I feel as though you've given up on me. Can't you come over, just once? I want to talk about this. It's why I haven't moved on. If I…'_

If she could see him again and put all her cards on the table, then maybe they could move on. It never would be the same as it was before. They still had a hole between them that couldn't be patched up and restored. And yet she still wanted to be a part of his life somehow, even if she could only do so as a civilian friend.

' _I want you to see me and come up with some sort of solution. I'm at a loss for ideas, but if you show up…if you just_ _ **show up**_ _…'_

A light yellow envelope caught her attention, stuck to her bedroom window. Picking it up, she noted that (despite being addressed to her) the sender remained anonymous. "Curiouser and curiouser," she murmured under her breath, placing the envelope above her takeout box so she could take everything into the Shinohara home with one fell swoop.

Who sent her the note? What was it about? Considering the whole letter was written in code, whoever sent it knew where her field of expertise used to be. It couldn't hurt to give it one more go and keep those skills sharp.

Old Man Arata's sushi went into the refrigerator and a can of soda came out, accompanying the Shinohara girl and her mystery note to her bedroom. The door closed, causing Mitsumi's _Genius At Work_ sign to bounce.

Kaede told her a few times that a tidy room was the sign of a messy mind. Maybe there was some truth to this because Mitsumi only started keeping it this pristine after she came back from the hospital. There wasn't much to do other than clean, so she'd gone overboard. The whole room smelled like strawberries, save for the musty window unit leaving little damp clouds on the interior of her window.

In the corner, she found her desk and opened the envelope all the way to see the full letter. It was four pages long and far from the most complicated code she'd encountered. This letter would take her a couple of hours at most, but it was the thought that counted, right? She sat down, cracked her fingers, and quickly got to work.

As she began, it dawned on her how much she used to love decryption. That old spark felt rekindled in her chest as she wrote deciphered letters and words in her notebook. Bit by bit, piece by piece, she'd solve this puzzle and get the biggest thrill out of it. The mysteries of the earth were hers to unravel again and even if this note turned out to be a cry for help, she'd be grateful to the sender for thinking about her enough to encrypt it.

The white noise at long last dissipated. Somewhere along the way, Mitsumi realized she'd been humming a tune under her breath and jiggling her leg. The numbness and that big black ugly cloud felt less intense. For now, at least, she felt like her old self: the mystery-loving problem solver who could think her way out of nearly any situation.

' _Except landmines,'_ she thought darkly.

By 1:00 AM, Mitsumi was exhausted, but at least she decoded the message and knew who the sender was. Her heart wanted to reach through the paper.

 **Mitsumi,**

 **We've fallen out of touch and it's my fault. Most of my time has gone toward my new team and completing more missions. I have a legitimate sensei now: a highly decorated jōnin from the Aburame Clan. I also have two new teammates I want to introduce to you someday (though I'm convinced you'll only like Hizashi).**

 **I wrote this in code because I remembered how much you used to love decryption and solving puzzles. I learned a little bit after you resigned so I can have at least a few of your skills still at my disposal. It's almost like having you here, but not quite.**

 **That said, I know you don't plan to come back to active duty. I don't want this letter sound like I'm trying to guilt trip you into coming back, so I hope you won't interpret it that way. You made your wishes very clear, but that doesn't mean I want to write a friend as kind, considerate, and honest as you out of my life. If my absence made you think I don't want to be friends anymore, then I'm truly sorry.**

 **If you want to meet somewhere to catch up (and maybe meet my new team), please write me back. If you don't want that, just don't reply. I'll get the message either way.**

 **Your former teammate but forever your friend,  
Fugaku**

' _Leave it to you to fan my old fires, you dork,'_ she thought, smiling through her tears. She was moved. If anyone could rekindle a passion in her, this boy could. He'd done it before and he'd done it again.

Maybe tomorrow would be the day she'd step into the central office for the village and ask the Konoha Council to reinstate her exclusively to the Cryptography Corps. In time, she could tiptoe her way back to full duty once she felt herself ready.

For now, all she felt comfortable with were symbols and numbers. Symbols and numbers weren't going to go up in flames and fall in front of you with body parts missing. But it was a start.

 _Gods_ , was it a _start_!


	36. God in His Father's Image

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Ever since I began uploading these remastered stories to from my Tumblr, "God in His Father's Image" was one of the chapters I was most excited to share with you.

If you have made it this far, my hope is that most of the characters from Fugaku's generation are beginning to flesh out and stand as their own distinct personalities. Choosing him as a main character was challenging for a series of reasons, the most obvious being he is so much older than the other parents and had no confirmed canon peers (that we know about, hence why I took a slight creative liberty by placing Nawaki in his class). As a result, I needed to create a whole set of same-age peers for the earlier stories and ended up becoming rather attached to several of them.

The chapter below is an origin story for the proverbial thorn in Fugaku's side: a guilty favorite of mine. Several of these characters play critical roles as the years and experiences unfurl. Some are even involved with the great tragedy at the end.

This one lives well beyond that. He's even a critical character in my _Sai Hiden_ light novel, confirming he at least makes it into his 50s.

So, without further ado, here's the story!

…

They used to fight each other in the Inuzuka woods and played war long before they understood the concept. No other location would be more befitting for him to test his strength. Somewhere in the woods, Kaede and Neyuki were supposed to hide and ambush him when he least expected it. These drills were how they spent their evenings, all in preparation for the upcoming Chūnin Exam.

And this time, he'd been proud enough to invite a spectator to watch, not that Mikuro would ever call Fugaku a "senpai." At least the Uchiha boy insisted he had nothing better to do. He may as well observe and evaluate, considering he'd earned his first flak jacket a year ago. It was already too small and needed to be replaced.

' _I'm waiting for you. Kaede. Neyuki.'_

Mikuro believed himself to be ready to ambush them, blowing a massive gale from his lips that could blow the bark right off a tree. Branches and dead leaves flew everywhere, caked in a thin layer of December ice. They had to be here somewhere! Considering Kaede didn't shriek in surprise over the technique, Mikuro realized his aim was off. ' _Shit..._ '

On the outskirts of the woods, he'd planted a series of exploding tags so he'd know full well where the couple chose to hide–provided they tripped the wire. Though it did strike him as odd everything appeared to be still… _too_ still. ' _Alright. Now I'm getting concerned. Where the hell are you?'_

Few people their age took up anywhere near as stringent and grueling a training regimen as he did. Upon finding the Uchiha girl and the Inuzuka boy, he'd give them a fair chance to get in the first move if only to draw out the suspense. Considering Kaede hadn't activated her sharingan, chances were she wouldn't recognize a Genjutsu right away. It would also be his opportunity to show _Mr. Hotshot_ just how formidable his family could be.

Shimura Mikuro was the son of a village-renowned creative genius, but it was high time the world saw him as more than merely "Zocho's son." There was no point in spending the rest of his life following in his father's shadow, especially when there were others within the clan who were worthier of emulation.

Another torrent of air blew through his lips, this time in such a tight concentration that it pierced the tree. He'd killed a whole enemy squad with this move before, but the technique was imperfect and small compared to what some of his aunts and uncles could achieve. One old fart in the Veterans Home claimed he once mowed down a forest with that jutsu, though Mikuro was a mite suspicious of that claim.

"Son of a bitch," he heard Neyuki growl. "He's pulling out the big guns today, isn't he?"

Everything else, Mikuro's ears didn't pick up in their entirety. However, he recognized a flirty tone when he heard one. He stepped closer, expecting Ashimaru to lunge at him and bark his doggy heart out. He expected Neyuki to set up traps or for Kaede to ambush him with that ghostly blue flame she'd created quite regularly as of late.

None of that happened. By the time Mikuro located his teammates, they were locking lips and Neyuki's right hand made a playful pass at Kaede's inner thigh. Kaede giggled and gave the Neyuki's lip a teasing nip, whispering sweet nonsense in his ear. To break it up, Mikuro spat out a series of high intensity "air bullets" and shot them only half a meter above the couple. Kaede squeaked in surprise, dark eyes big as saucers.

"You know you can't pull this shit with me when we take the actual exam _,_ right?" The training was a letdown, a disappointment, and a total bust. If these two were more interested in making out, there was no reason for their third wheel to stick around.

"Oooooh," Kaede teased. "So _serious_!"

Mikuro threw a kunai in her direction for that. It landed only two feet away, lodged deep into the earth.

…

 **They'd been best friends since they were in diapers, all at the orchestration of a distant uncle. Mikuro wasn't sure how they were** ** _really_** **related—every Shimura man over a certain age was** ** _oji-san_** **by default—but he had this man to thank for mentioning to Utatane Koharu that a boy in his clan was the same age as her child.**

 **Today, Mikuro planned to give Tohru a crash course in stealth. Tohru attempted to be quiet, but his friend's estate had nightingale floors. Every time he touched the floor in the exact wrong way, it tittered and tweeted like an excited canary. Tohru's grayish-green eyes turned bigger and brighter each time the floor chirped. Mesmerized, he intentionally kept making noises.**

 **'** ** _Hmph! Some ninja you're gonna be!'_** **the little Shimura boy thought, stifling a snicker. He'd trained with his father and various others since he could totter about on two legs. His clan started them young and early.**

 **For now, he was content to sneak up behind his friend and give that walnut brown ponytail a playful yank, but not yet. He'd let it sway and bounce for a while, almost like a fox's tail. There was a rhythm to it, just like Tohru's chirping steps.**

 **Creeping up from behind, Mikuro successfully goosed his friend's sides and gave him a good surprise before tickling his ribs. Tohru squealed in playful shock, turned around, and made a mock-hurt expression. "You scared me!"**

 **"So what?" Mikuro teased. "What're gonna do about it?" Tohru contemplated his options, trying to think of a fitting punishment for giving him a good scare, but he didn't conjure anything up in time. Mikuro darted down the hall, somehow managing to avoid making the floors tweet their telltale sign of intrusion. "I could hear you coming a mile away, Tohru!"**

 **"And I can hear the** ** _both_** **of you," a tired voice called out. Both boys froze in place. Mikuro's mother, Michiko, had been prone to migraines all her life and usually asked her son to take his louder antics outdoors. "Maybe you can play at Tohru's house." There was an almost pleading tone to her words.**

 **Tohru, who had no idea bright lights and even the subtlest sounds pained his friend's mother when her brain chose to betray her, frowned and glanced sheepishly at the floor. He poked a board with his toe, unaware of how many times Michiko cringed. "But our house doesn't have floors like these."**

 **Mikuro glanced elsewhere, feeling mildly ashamed. His parents were both veterans of a time before the village: a couple with one late-in-life child neither one expected to have. His mother had earned a chance to live in peace.**

 **His father, however, was still a powerful figure and would surely have his place in village history books someday. In his spare time, Zocho painted. It was something he'd picked up several years ago as a means of breaking old barriers between the formerly feuding families. There was no way to better endear oneself to strangers than to communicate friendship through art and it made him quite the local celebrity. The Hokage even came by on occasion to see what Zocho was painting.**

 **He'd become the village's first propaganda artist. Portraits of the first two Hokages carried Zocho's signature at the bottom right corner. Even the Daimyo had one, but this was merely a pastime. Combat and battle were what the Shimura Clan had been bred for, generation after generation. As a result, very few made it to old age.**

 **"Your father's painting outside. He'll appreciate a little quiet, too," Michiko added. "Tohru-** ** _kun_** **, please play with my son at your house."**

 **Mikuro bowed, feeling even more red come into his face. "I'm sorry for the noise,** ** _okaa-san_** **. We'll keep it down." Tohru nudged him, asking if they could race to the courtyard. "No. Didn't you hear her? We're too loud** ** _."_**

 **Gingerly, he stepped into the yard to see if his mother was telling the truth. Sure enough, his father sat out there with an easel, a canvas, and an impressive set of charcoal sticks. Zocho glanced up, noticed both boys were coming closer, and beckoned them to do so.**

 **"Aaaaah. Have you been banished to the great outdoors?"**

 **Mikuro nodded.**

 **"Did you bother your mother?"**

 **Mikuro glowered, but nodded again.**

 **Zocho let loose a small huff of a laugh at that, rolling his eyes before choosing to ruffle his son's hair. "It's alright. You two can play out here."**

…

The machine flashed in red analog characters that the houji tea was out of stock, so he'd have to go with his second choice. Mikuro sighed, letting loose a damp foggy cloud from his mouth as he did so. Fugaku sat on the park bench, slowly sipping from his hot bottle of oolong. "I can see why you're disappointed," the Uchiha boy commented, "but I can't say I'm surprised. Kaede never shuts up about Neyuki."

"She never shuts up about you and Yuka, either," Mikuro added. If anything, he suspected this was all some sort of not-so-subtle ploy on Kaede's part to make Fugaku jealous so he'd pay attention to her. While he didn't particularly care if his teammates dated, it struck him as strange (and mildly concerning) that Kaede never showed any indicator of being interested in Neyuki before. This relationship came out of nowhere. And of course he'd worry; Neyuki was a good friend.

Now was the time to gauge Fugaku's reaction. The boy didn't seem fazed by it, not in the slightest. "Dating Yuka won't slow down Team Buyo," Fugaku pointed out. "Yuka's just filling in for Hiashi until his leg heals, but she's pulling her weight. Is Kaede?"

"That's just it. She _was_ ," Mikuro grumbled. "She even figured out how to make that freaky blue fireball her family's always blathering on about." Judging from the surprised look on Fugaku's face, he didn't realize that. "Can _you_ do that?"

"No. That's very impressive." Watching Fugaku's face was priceless. Kaede had ranted and raved when he activated his sharingan. Her face was quite similar to the one Fugaku was presently trying his best not to make, but his eyes betrayed him. Mikuro knew what jealousy looked like all too well.

"But it won't be worth _shit_ unless she takes the training seriously. She's driving me crazy." Mikuro reached for his tea and took his seat beside Fugaku. For a split second, he was amused to note he'd finally grown a little taller than the Uchiha boy.

After Nawaki's death, so much had changed. One of the few good things to come out of it was the fact Mikuro and Fugaku agreed to a truce, at least on some things. They could be civil with each other, but Mikuro still hesitated to call Fugaku his friend. They'd grown from merely hating each other to carrying a begrudging respect for one another. Right now, no one took his ambitions anywhere near as seriously as Fugaku did. It was appreciated and hadn't gone unnoticed.

' _It's like our class hit a standstill after you. Sooner or later, one of us will need to match up to you and present himself as an equal.'_ It may as well be him. He'd always thought himself to be one of the most capable.

The spar he'd finished with Fugaku ten minutes ago only further proved that. Mikuro's speed had always been his top score on his Academy ranking. No one in the class ever surpassed him, not even the Uchiha heir. Although Mikuro trained to improve his weaknesses, he'd also taken the initiative to sharpen his mastery of stealth, precision, and speed even further.

"We've come this far without a jōnin to supervise us. _Somebody_ had to take charge. But lately, I feel like I'm carrying dead weight around. They're only motivated to…" He shook his head. " _Ugh._ "

"Having a jōnin work with you is a great experience." Not that Nawaki and Mitsumi ever had the chance to find out what that was like. Aburame Buyo only came into the equation once Fugaku agreed to team up with the Hyūga twins. "Buyo- _sensei's_ a remarkable man. I have a feeling you'd like him."

Mikuro shrugged. "I asked around before to see if anyone would want to sponsor my team, if only for the experience. Nobody took the bait. Even the Sandaime said we were handling things well enough for him to think a jōnin wasn't necessary." And that always struck him as a little odd. "You're lucky somebody agreed to do that for you."

He'd asked the strongest man in their clan a few times. Danzō's response was that he was too busy humoring the Third Hokage to bother with an insecure, immature third cousin. He had, however, dropped the name of his one remaining teammate. Akimichi Torifu more or less told Mikuro to leave him be.

"Everyone's too goddamn busy. At least, that's what they say. Maybe it's their way of politely telling us to fuck off and stay genin forever."

Fugaku took another sip. "It doesn't take a pair of sharp eyes to know who's the most responsible party on your team, Mikuro. You've been as good a leader as any and you've done everything without an adult telling you what to do." He heard a low laugh leave the Shimura boy's mouth. "What?"

"You aren't patronizing me. Are you, Uchiha?" Mikuro snorted out another huff of air and smirked. "Everything in life I wanted, I had to get it myself. No one's going to pave a path for me the way your parents do for you."

His father hadn't paved a path to success for him, or even one of security. Zocho did something far more embarrassing and Mikuro strongly suspected it was why no one seemed to take him seriously.

…

 **The only admirable ways to return from the battlefield were as a man triumphant, whole, and hale…or as a corpse honorably killed in the line of duty. Coming home as an invalid wasn't,** ** _especially_** **as an invalid who cost the village a crucial victory. Even if he died from the surgery, the damage to the Shimura Clan's pride had already been dealt. Zocho was no one they'd ever respect again.**

 **"I have concerns for the son," an older woman whispered. "Zocho** ** _-san_** **'s been relieved of all his village duties. What an embarrassment."**

 **"At least he can still** ** _paint,"_** **Danzō muttered under his breath. He was one of the few thirty-somethings in the clan who hadn't married or started a family of his own. Instead, he'd done something far more beneficial for the village as a whole. This was his chance to really ascend the ranks and build more power for himself and he knew it. Zocho's star had not only fizzled out, but it'd imploded upon itself. The Shimura family would need to turn their attention to someone who could give them a better future.**

 **The woman beside him let loose a small, dry laugh at that and paused. "…that's not funny."**

 **"It wasn't meant to be."**

 **Danzō's one visible eye turned briefly toward Mikuro and beckoned the boy to come closer. Mikuro complied and followed the man's lead to a quieter location. Everyone else was in his house, causing the floors to chirp and tweet with every step. Outside, the hot and balmy summer heat was almost unbearable. So were the words coming out of Danzō's mouth.**

 **"Your father could die from medical complications. I want to make sure you're aware of that."**

 **Mikuro understood somewhat where this was coming from. Danzō's father and grandfather both had died honorably in combat. According to the rumors, the grandfather had committed suicide rather than surrendering to the one clan he could never defeat. True or untrue, the point was Danzō wanted Mikuro to brace himself for the likelihood that Zocho's injured leg could turn gangrenous. Amputation could lead to hemorrhagic shock and death. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Mikuro would have to grow up faster in order to tend to his elderly, fragile mother, all by himself. Was he prepared?**

 **"I know, but I don't think you're giving my father enough credit,** ** _oji-san_** **." That caught the man's attention. "He'll make a full recovery because he's my father second and a Shimura first."**

 **…**

 **But he didn't. The wound turned gangrenous and Zocho lost everything from the right knee down.**

 **The prosthetic was clunky, awkward, and ugly, so he refused to wear it at first. Yamanaka Hanako, a Kunoichi Preschool teacher who married a friend of his, offered to carve beautiful patterns into the wood to turn it into a work of art so it would be more to the artist's liking. Zocho conceded, a faint smile on his face until Hanako left. Then the clouds of depression set in all over again.**

 **Once Zocho found the strength to get out of bed again, he hobbled about on a cane. Even that took a great deal of convincing.**

 **Mikuro, despite occasionally receiving invitations to join Tohru for a fun evening out, a little dinner, or even a chance to play, ended up having to come home and nurse both ailing adults. Between his mother's migraines and his father's despondence toward his forced retirement, he had to back down from nearly 90% of Tohru's invitations.**

 **Eventually—and it broke Mikuro's heart when it happened—Tohru stopped asking. He began spending more time with Fugaku instead, assuming by default that Mikuro wouldn't be available. Although he had been indifferent to Tohru's new friend at first, he quickly began to hate him. He felt replaced, as though he'd become little more than an afterthought.**

 **At first, Mikuro assumed his father would recover, adapt, and carry on as his old creative self. He even assumed Hanako-** ** _sensei_** **'s beautification of the prosthetic would cheer him up. As days turned into weeks, the melancholia started to feel like the new normal.**

 **The epiphany struck him out of nowhere: things probably would have been easier** ** _had_** **Zocho died in combat. Had that occurred, he'd be the son of a hero and loved by the rest of the clan rather than being stuck as a caregiver for a man who oftentimes voiced that he** ** _wished_** **to die. It was too much responsibility for someone so young. Nobody in the class could empathize, either. They had no idea.**

 **He was home sick today. Despite doing all he could to avoid Nawaki at all costs, Mikuro caught the Senju boy's cold anyway. It started with a wet cough and a sore throat. Once he vomited in class, his teacher gave full permission for both boys to take a few days off.**

 **"You're one of my smart ones, Mikuro," Kuriiro-** ** _sensei_** **assured him. "I'm sure you'll catch up in no time."**

 **Outside, it was nice and calm. Inside, he could hear his mother screaming and sobbing at some of his father's guests: more models for his art. He recognized one of them as Uchiha Naho. Naho's daughter was in his class, but he'd known about Naho well before he even met Kaede. She was his father's favorite model: the person he painted the most.**

 **Ugly words were tossed between the women as they tore each other apart like a couple of feral cats. Someone Mikuro's age had no business hearing that kind of language, so he tried to focus on the tranquility and beauty of his surroundings instead. Inside, it was impossible.**

 **If it could calm his father down and take his mind to better places, then maybe it'd work for him, too. And perhaps, were he to** ** _draw_** **something for his father, a little good karma could come their way.**

 **Before he knew it, he'd completed nearly thirteen sketches. Each one was a different animal, though the last one was perhaps a gift for the uncle he admired. He'd seen the Baku summon and wanted to sketch it. Such a fascinating creature with such a lavish and** ** _interesting_** **backstory…**

 **Besides, Mikuro sort of felt like a leftover animal, too. He was the child of spoiled leftovers that had gone on well past their prime when they had no business doing so by clan standards. Did this make him leftovers, too: unappetizing and left to collect mold until it was time to throw him away?**

 **"Oooooh.** ** _Poor you._** **It's not** ** _my_** **fault you got old and fat!" Naho slammed the door and froze as soon as she noted Zocho's son hunched over with a sketchbook. She heard his cough and took a couple of steps back. Still, she could see his eyes drilling into her from beneath his glasses. "You're drawing?" She plastered on a phony smile. "May I see?"**

 **"I didn't draw them for** ** _you_** **," Mikuro hissed, clutching his sketchbook tightly to his chest. Naho rolled her eyes and walked off, muttering something about how children can't draw well, anyway.**

 **Gingerly, he stepped back inside and heard his mother crying in the den. Michiko was on her knees, picking up the shattered remnants of a vase she loved. Mikuro felt his heart sink as he heard her cough, too, and he tiptoed upstairs…all the while making sure the floor didn't chirp.**

 **His father's studio smelled strongly of paint, turpentine, and smoked kizami. Zocho had the kiseru out, puffing along as he made some finishing touches to a painting of the Sandaime's wife. "Ah…hello, Mikuro." He smiled, teeth stained yellow from years of smoking. The boy gingerly handed over his sketchbook. "Do you want me to give a critique?"**

 **"They're for you. I wanted to try and see if I could draw like you." If so, then perhaps he could bring a bit more pride to the family. Though Naho's words reverberated, refusing to leave.**

 **"These are nice!** ** _Very_** **nice. You hold the charcoal very well! I'm proud, son. This is a great place to start." Zocho beckoned the boy to come even closer. "Is that Danzō's baku?"**

 **"Yeah! And I drew** ** _okaa-san_** **'s rabbits. See?" Michiko kept a whole hutch of them outside. They were to be bred and raised for eating and for fur, save for her one pet doe. That one animal was allowed in the house on occasion, but only with her supervision.**

 **"You have the makings of a great artist, just like me," Zocho insisted, "assuming you'd rather be that than a proud Shimura warhawk."**

 **"Why can't I be both?** ** _You_** **used to be both." At that time, he wanted to believe he could still be proud of Zocho. And to hear that his father saw potential in him made his heart swell.**

 **"I particularly like the cat."**

 **"…that's a** ** _fox._** **" Just like that, he felt inadequate. This wasn't enough after all. "Sorry, I just started. They aren't–"**

 **"Sssssssssh, sssssssssh…" Zocho wrapped his formerly strong arms around his child, even though it meant he'd smear cream-colored paint all over the back of Mikuro's rust-colored shirt. "I don't think you understand. Out of all the art I've created in my life, only one masterpiece ever mattered to me:** ** _you_** **. You're my living muse, son. You inspire me constantly, giving me so many ideas. You know the painting I did of the Valley of the End?"**

 **How could he not? It ended up in their textbook. Mikuro knew well enough that his father was old enough to be his grandfather. He'd seen all kinds of astonishing things in his life. "Yes…?"**

 **"I wasn't at that battle, but they wanted a painting. I watched you and Tohru play war in the courtyard. You were the First Hokage that day. You've also been the Third, the Sage of Six Paths** ** _…so many heroes_** **. They never wear your face, but they all have a little bit of you in them whenever I paint."**

 **For the first time since the injury, some of that hopeful light returned to Zocho's eyes. "Though I think I can change that. See, these drawings of yours have given me** ** _quite_** **the idea…"**

…

Things were strange between him and his father these days. Zocho finally accepted that his shinobi days were over and the Shimura Clan wouldn't grant him any further love. Perhaps this was why he'd been pouring his love (and other things) only into outsiders as of late.

Perhaps it would have been wise had Zocho continued to keep Mikuro as an anonymous muse. It would have been wiser still had Mikuro never given him those drawings in the first place. As Zocho gradually nursed himself into a stable recovery, he proceeded to write a children's serial manga once a week for Mikuro to share with his classmates.

At eight years old, he couldn't have been prouder had his father been made Hokage. Simply showing off the adventures of **_Happy God-kun_** was enough to make Mikuro something he'd never been before: _popular_. His classmates loved the stories of a young and lonely god who chose to create a ragtag team of animal friends for a whole assortment of hijinks and adventures.

Some of his classmates realized in time that they were recurring characters in the manga. Tohru was the wise hare who sat by and offered his gentle advice to stop the other animals from fighting. Fugaku was the proud and arrogant fox who took it as a personal insult every time another animal bested him. Nawaki was the loudmouthed duck who never shut up. Mitsumi was the tiger cub who didn't know her own strength. Nobody ever figured out who the baku was and Mikuro, reveling in the attention, decided to keep them in suspense every week.

By nine, Mikuro saw his father's manga printed in the village newspaper. More people were reading it, including kids in other classes. Younger and older children who loved the serial pulled him aside to talk about the comic and told him he was the luckiest boy in the village to have a dad like Zocho. He agreed.

Some kids in the class who had paid little heed to him before now wanted to be his new best friend. One of them, Inuzuka Neyuki, was rather persistent about it and tried to include Mikuro on everything. Considering how divided Tohru's attention was, Mikuro accepted Neyuki's friendship…though he did wish they could talk about something other than the manga.

His afternoons were devoted solely to his assignments and to further training. As much as he loved the attention from everyone else, he wanted to receive it from his clan more than anywhere else. If an aunt or uncle offered to show him a new jutsu or help him improve one of his skills, he'd jump on the chance and come at it with everything he had.

If he played with his friends, it was to play war and get more practice fights under his belt. More and more, he'd come to realize his best competition was Uchiha Fugaku. Fighting Fugaku gave him a sense of catharsis, considering Mikuro felt like Fugaku stole his best friend…just as another Uchiha stole his father's attention from his mother.

By ten, Mikuro graduated from the Academy and Zocho couldn't be bothered to attend. His "apology" was to write a cute chapter in **_Happy God-kun_** about the little god finding another young god and a cute little goddess to play with. The note at the end stated, "I dedicate this story to my son, my eternal muse, and all the love I bear for him."

Mikuro didn't accept the apology. When he came home, he stormed upstairs to his father's study, tears threatening to come out of his hot and angry face. He crumpled up the newspaper, threw it at Zocho, and told him to go to hell.

He was now twelve years old, sitting on a bench with a boy he barely knew outside of his animosity for him. "Do the missions become more exciting once you're promoted?"

Fugaku smirked. "I'll let you know once I start getting more stable chūnin-level work. My _sensei_ 's kind of flaky at points and treats me the same way he treats my genin teammates. Can I be frank with you?" The Shimura boy shrugged. "I think you're ready. If anything, you're overdue. If I can pass that exam, you can too. Though I have to ask…what's your next move, assuming you're promoted?"

Mikuro finished the last of his tea and glanced up at the sky. It was getting dark. He'd probably need to come home fairly soon and get dinner started. Without it, there was no guarantee his mother felt well enough to prepare a decent one. "Why does it matter? What's _your_ plan _?_ "

"I'll be joining the Konohagakure Military Police Force eventually. That's not up for debate," Fugaku confessed. Some things were set in stone. That was one of them. "In time, I'll be leading my clan, just like my mother. I don't have much say in the matter, but it's fine. There are far worse fates in life."

"What would you rather do, then?" Mikuro inquired. "Be Hokage?"

"Feh. _No_." Fugaku rolled his eyes. "But there's a man in your clan who looks like _he_ has a rather badass job. If I had any say in the matter, I'd want to be in charge of ANBU."

Mikuro could barely contain his laughter. He tried, seeing as he'd gone through great lengths to emulate the stoic, firm demeanor his clan respected most, but the thought of Fugaku taking that role made it impossible _not_ to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You want to replace _Danzō-dono_? Don't make me laugh." He put his hand on his hip as he stood up. "When he eventually dies, it'll need to go to somebody from inside ANBU, _preferably_ another Shimura."

"Preferably _you_ , then?" Fugaku narrowed his eyes. Clearly, that statement riled him up.

 _'Good_.'

Mikuro wanted to build that old competitive spirit up again and shake whatever remnants of Nawaki's ghost were still on this kid. It's like Fugaku fell to pieces without a rival. Mikuro was going to be a new one, a greater one, and one he couldn't defeat.

"I'll see you when I get my brand new vest, Uchiha," Mikuro teased. "Thanks for making me stronger."


	37. Wasted Potential

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Readers should be cautioned that physical child abuse does appear as subject matter within the content below. Those who are sensitive to such material may want to skip this chapter and the next chapter.

…

Five players, five major nations: one uncharted island to conquer. It was the perfect setup for an almost perfect game. Every player sitting at Sanjo's game table belonged to the clan. The adults were once again holding a meeting at the Naka Shrine. Although Fugaku and Yuka both were old enough to participate in the meetings if they so desired, the two decided to play a board game at Sanjo's house and help him watch Mikoto and the twins instead. Kaede also volunteered so they'd have a fifth player for the game.

"Good," had been Yuka's response. "Someone's gotta lose first. Might as well be you."

It set the mood for the whole game. They'd set up the board, placing the resource hexagons and number chips together, and chose their villages. Mikoto rolled the biggest number, so she got to pick a color and put her first village and road on the board before everyone else. Fugaku, who rolled the smallest number, went last but got to put both of his villages and roads on the board at the same time. Mikoto felt patriotic today, so she chose to be Konohagakure. Fugaku, feeling fierce and no-nonsense, selected Sunagakure. Yuka chose Iwagakure if only so she could be "closer."

Kirigakure (Sanjo's choice) took a port early into the game. He built around the coastline to block others from taking it. Kaede's plan as Kumogakure involved placing settlements on _all_ the brickyards to create a monopoly.

"Why don't you like to play Mahjong anymore?" Mikoto inquired as she rolled the dice. Eight. Sanjo and Yuka both had villages skirting a tile with an eight on it, so Sanjo received a grain card. Yuka receive a grain card and a sheep card since she had a village on the other eight as well. Yuka was on a lucky streak this whole game and Sanjo looked half ready to rage quit at any moment. "This is hard."

"That's why it's so great," Yuka insisted. "Mahjong's too easy to cheat at once you have a sharingan. You _can't_ cheat at this game. And I know you say this is hard, but you're kicking butt over here, Mi _-chan_. Thanks to you, Konoha's now twice as big as Kiri!"

"Oh yeah, Tsuchikage? Suck on my Longest Road!" Sanjo growled teasingly. Yuka kicked his chair to make him stop. So did Fugaku, considering he wasn't about to let Sanjo make such a dig at his present girlfriend. Together, they nearly knocked him out of the chair. Both agreed Mikoto was too young to hear such talk. She'd repeated _suck my dick_ once at her father and Yuka (who was present) knew precisely who to blame.

"You may have the Longest Road, but Fugaku- _nii_ has the Largest Army." Mikoto beamed at him. Both of her upper front teeth were missing. "Suna's catching up to you."

It felt nice to gather together after a long day and do something fun with a few of his favorite relatives. Yashiro was on duty today and couldn't find it in his schedule to come, but that was alright. They could play this well into the night. Fugaku rolled the dice, hoping for a nine. Instead, _seven_ came up. The thief was his!

"Yuka…" His voice was deceptively sweet. "How many cards do you have?"

"She has more than seven!" Mikoto chirped, a wicked grin on her face. "You gotta give half of them up!"

"I know the rules, you little traitor," Yuka grumbled, rolling her eyes as she slapped half her cards down on the table and put them back in the stack. "Okay, thief. Pick a card." Stone. _Perfect_. It meant he could upgrade a village into a fortress.

"While our Kazekage turns mad with power, can I convince one of you fine ladies to check on the twins? They're too quiet." Sanjo offered his best smile to Yuka, hoping to get her out of her seat. Yuka merely nudged Kaede and asked if she wanted to see the babies. Not waiting for Kaede's response, Mikoto scampered off to look for Hideo and Sengen.

Sanjo sighed, rubbing his fingers across his face. "I don't trust them when they turn quiet like that. Hideo giggles all the time and Sengen's a screamer."

"Maybe they're asleep?"

"I fucking _hope_ so, Kaede," Sanjo confessed, "considering I put a little liquor in their bottles."

They were teething and his parents insisted they'd done that to calm him down. Unfortunately, they didn't specify how much alcohol he was supposed to use, so Sanjo accidentally used a higher concentration. By the time Mikoto picked one of the babies up, both were staggering around like little drunkards.

"Hello, Hideo- _chan_!" Mikoto cooed, happily placing the baby boy on her lap. He gave her a drooly smile, big black eyes staring up at her with absolute love. That child adored everyone.

Sengen toddled behind Mikoto, trying to catch up to her brother. She held out her arms insistently and started to whine when no one paid her any attention. Finally, Fugaku conceded and picked up the baby up. She quieted down, but continued to whimper. He occasionally had to keep her from pulling tabs and toy villages off the board.

"You're so lucky to be a big brother, Sanjo- _nii_." Mikoto couldn't have been more content with that little boy had she been his big sister. "They're so _cute_. It's hard to believe they're one and a half already!"

Were they really that old now? Accordig to Sanjo, the babies had been walking and talking for a while now. He'd been talking back at them so they'd keep doing it. Before too long, they'd be running through the house and wreaking all kinds of havoc, just like their big brother.

Fugaku noted the awkward whiny noise leaving Sanjo's throat. He'd done the same thing when his mother had her baby shower. Watching the three girls fawn over Hideo started to mildly concern him. Sanjo's old remark about "hungry wombs" played in his brain. He returned to the present when Sengen did a perfect mimic of her big brother's whine.

"Sengen likes to copy you, doesn't she?" He smirked at Sanjo. "She's a pretty good mimic. It's funny."

"She swears, too," Sanjo admitted, more than an ounce of pride in his voice. "It's pretty funny when she does, but _some people_ disagree with me." His eyes went toward Yuka.

Mikoto, Yuka, and Kaede were all taking turns passing Hideo around, trying to get him to giggle and smile. After Yuka returned the child to Mikoto, disaster struck. Mikoto shrieked in disgust because Hideo _leaked_ on her. The baby smiled in that same vapid way he always did, blissfully oblivious. "Uuuuuuugh! He's _dripping_!"

"Then change his diaper. I clean that little shit factory at least four times a–" Sanjo froze as soon as Yuka gave him the evil eye for using that sort of language in front of Mikoto. Mikoto now held that baby out as far as her arms outstretched, not wanting anything else to dribble on her dress. Fugaku bit back a laugh as he heard her mutter _so gross_ under her breath multiple times. "The hell's wrong with you, Mikoto!? That's the kitchen counter! I prep _food_ up there!"

Disgruntled and annoyed, Sanjo got up, went over to where his baby brother was, picked him up unceremoniously with one arm, and hauled off to the bathroom for cleanup. Mikoto's face turned pink, but she didn't cry. All she did was stick her tongue out at Sanjo when he couldn't see her.

"Oh my _god_ , Hideo," they heard Sanjo groan from the bathroom. "You aren't human. Nothing human could _make_ something this nasty…"

By now, the girls remembered there was a second baby and wanted to dote on Sengen. Fugaku felt slightly bad for the little girl as he watched her reaction to the newfound attention. Hideo was the cute little ray of sunshine who assumed everyone was his friend. Sengen was a more reserved baby and became fussy when too many people tried to reach for her…which the girls were all doing.

Sengen had a reputation for having a strong set of lungs and cried (according to Sanjo) without warning. "I can take her off your hands, cousin!" Kaede offered, giving her biggest and most excited smile toward Sengen. The baby glanced back up at Fugaku with an indignant frown on her face, as if she couldn't believe he'd give her over so easily.

"Hiiii, Sengen- _chan_ ," Kaede cooed.

Almost immediately, Sengen started to fuss. She wriggled in discomfort in Kaede's hands, even as the girl tried rocking her. Sengen believed herself to be way too old for such nonsense and muttered a muffled _no no no_. "Down," the baby demanded, scowling. " _Down_. Go way."

"Noooo, Sengen," Kaede cooed. "Be a good girl and–"

"NO." That kid wasn't having any of this.

Yuka snorted out a laugh in the background. "Oh man. Kaede. She _really_ doesn't like you. Put her down."

"Sometime we don't always get what we want," Kaede snapped. "If I give in to her, she'll be spoiled." Yuka rolled her eyes and made a snide remark that maybe, just _maybe_ , Kaede hadn't been held enough as a baby and this was overcompensation. "Shut _up_ , Yuka!"

"I agree with Yuka. Put down the baby, Kaede." Fugaku wasn't liking there this was going. "She's not a doll." She wasn't as extroverted as her twin, either. "I think she's had enough attention."

"Go WAY!" Sengen howled, her face turning crimson. Kaede instead told the child she _didn't speak baby_ and that she needed to stop fussing. The baby, true to her reputation, shrieked like a banshee until she made herself hoarse and all those around her wishing they could temporarily go deaf.

Kaede's fingers squeezed the baby too tightly, causing Sengen to yelp. By the time Fugaku stepped forward to put an end to this, he couldn't believe what he witnessed. It was one quick shove, the sort that wouldn't cause any harm to an older child, but the way Sengen's head bounced wasn't–

"What the fuck do you think you're doing…?" Sanjo usually shouted when he was angry. Those few times where his voice turned low and barely audible were the worst. He reached for the baby, who had turned uncharacteristically quiet. "Leave," he warned Kaede. "Or I'll _make_ you leave. You just don't _do_ that…"

…

Sleep was for the weak and those who weren't half scared to death their baby sister was going to fall asleep and never wake up.

Sanjo stayed up all night with the little girl, afraid of what would happen if Sengen closed her eyes. He'd handled enough domestic violence cases in the KMPF by now to know what shaking a baby could do to a kid. Even if she did survive this, there was a high chance she'd suffer permanent damage…and it was all Kaede's fault.

Sengen was a stubborn, strong-willed child. Seeing her act this weak didn't bode well. Somewhere down the line, he'd come to realize that between the twins, he had a favorite. Sanjo saw more of himself in his sister than his happy-go-lucky sheep of a brother. Sengen clearly had a favorite person in the whole of this world and Sanjo was it. She didn't even seem to like their parents terribly much. Just Sanjo.

"You come out of this alive and I'll spoil you rotten," he promised, giving her tiny hand a squeeze. She weakly squeezed back.

He never thought he'd miss her tantrums. Now he was practically begging her to pitch a fit since that would prove she was the same old Sengen, screaming out her problems the way she always did until she felt better. This quiet little thing lying there on the futon worried him beyond belief.

And yet he'd have to leave her for a few hours. His parents were supposed to be home by sunrise, but he needed to be on site at the KMPF central station by then to report for duty. He'd already eaten up all his vacation time, but maybe he could swing this to Kazusa when she came in.

At present, Yashiro sat across from him in the break room, trying to convince him to drink the entire pot of coffee because he "needed" it. "Are you going to file a report against her? I think you should."

Sanjo thought about it before, but multiple things made him hesitant to do so. Every reason was pretty damn selfish and he knew it, but he was afraid. His paranoid side feared that the KMPF would cover up the whole thing because Kaede was Naho's daughter and Naho had the clan head wrapped around her little finger.

He also worried that if Naho _didn't_ bribe silence and Kaede was charged, the clan would retaliate in other ways. A report within the Uchiha Clan would still be prosecuted by the clan and sow all kinds of unrest. Sanjo's cynical side believed everything would be swept under the rug or that the twins would be taken away altogether.

"Fucking boy scout," he grumbled, pouring himself his third cup. He wouldn't stop until his hands shook in tremors. Only then would he know the boiled bean water did its job. "What made you think I wanted your opinion?"

"You should at least tell Kazusa _-taichou_ when she comes in. I know you're probably worried about how it's going to look, but that's your sister. You'll never have another Sengen in your–"

"Keep talking and I'll break your goddamn jaw." Just like he planned to beat Kaede to a pulp if she had the gall to tell him it was an accident (or worse, that this was a cry for attention from Sengen and nothing to worry about). A few adults passed by, deciding to give Sanjo a wide berth. They all knew him as the sharp-tongued hothead who wouldn't hesitate to assault a fellow officer if provoked.

"I only caught the tail end of that. What's your problem _today,_ Sanjo?" Kazusa called out as she made her way into the break room. "And who killed the coffee? Come _on_ , people. If you empty the pot, make another pot for everyone else. That's–"

"Sengen's sick." The KMPF captain paused, turned around to face the teenager, and her face softened. He knew how much children meant to this woman. "Kaede shook her. I've been up all night to make sure she didn't pass out and–"

"Did you take her to the hospital?" Kazusa's jaw dropped in disbelief when Sanjo didn't immediately answer her. She took that as a _no_ and she was right. "You left her _at home_?!"

She grabbed Sanjo by the wrist and dragged him with her out of the building and back toward his home. There was a frantic, bewildered look to her face, but it wasn't like Sanjo blamed her.

…

Fugaku had never been so relieved to go on a mission as he was that morning. Yesterday had been too intense for his tastes. He, Yuka, and Hizashi finished by lunch and Buyo- _sensei_ excused the team to take the afternoon off. Typically, Buyo signed the group on board for a morning mission, gave the team a nice leisurely lunch break, and reconvened the group for an afternoon to evening mission. It was an old habit from his days of sharing a team with Akimichi Iwao.

Today, they only signed for the morning since Buyo had something confidential to complete. "That works out well for me," had been Yuka's response. "It means I can put in more hours at the dojo." Before Fugaku could propose treating her for lunch, Yuka had already sprinted off with the promise of kendo practice already on the forefront of her mind.

Some days, he found his girlfriend's competitive spirit to be cute and endearing. Other times, he found it annoying.

Competition was first and foremost in Yuka's world. Relationships were second. Most of her ideas for "dates" involved going someplace secluded to fight up until the point where she pinned him to the ground. She'd trap him between her strong and limber legs until he asked her to stop. For now, Yuka could overpower him and she reveled in that fact. She'd do that taunting little _gotcha_ and tease him with a kiss or two before freeing him, only to do it again later.

"I didn't think I'd like her at first," Hizashi confessed as Yuka jogged away. "I still don't, but I'll admit she's done a nice job of filling in for my brother." And there it was: the slightly wistful sigh. "It's a shame I won't be able to enjoy this much longer. Hiashi's almost recovered. Then things will go back to normal."

In short, Hizashi would feel more like Hiashi's slave than an equal on Team Buyo. Yuka showed the same amount of respect he'd shown her, which meant they still sassed each other. But at least they could sass one another as peers.

"Who's to say Hiashi's leg recovered completely, hm?" Fugaku smirked, pulling Hizashi closer to him. "He could always take an unexpected tumble down the stairs and aggravate his poor leg all over again. It could delay the inevitable." Not that he was anywhere near serious about this suggestion, but Hizashi's shocked expression made the Fugaku laugh even more. "Don't look at me like that. I'm joking!"

Hizashi's face was pink from guilty amusement. "You're gonna be the worst cop _ever_ , Fugaku."

"Me? _Nooooo._ You should meet Sanjo. _He's_ the worst." Fugaku paused outside his home and gave his teammate a quick hug. "Let me know if you want to come by later, alright? You have an open invitation. We can play that really rude card game Sanjo bought me."

"One of these days, you need to visit us," Hizashi insisted, giving his friend's collarbone a playful poke. "I promise. Hiashi's nowhere near as awful at home. See you tomorrow!"

"Alright." And like that, both teammates were out of his hair for the rest of the afternoon. Considering it was a nice enough day and Mitsumi responded to his letter, a part of him thought about paying her a surprise visit. She seemed to be in better spirits, if the letter was a valid indicator.

But something caught his attention. His mother was home early, sitting on the porch with fluffy white Kumoshiro purring on her lap. That animal hated everyone and everything else on the planet. Kazusa was merely special…and also distressed, judging from the ruddiness in her face.

Looking a bit closer, Fugaku found two empty sake bottles and a half-empty bottle nearby. Kazusa kept petting the cat and nuzzling him close to her. Her face was, save for the flush of alcohol, quite pale. Her eyeliner and mascara left grayed streaks on her face from where tears had been, but that was nothing compared to her eyes. Something had really shaken her.

" _Okaa-san_?" He sat next to her, but she didn't seem to hear him. She'd been like this a few times before, and each time worried him deeply. Gingerly, Fugaku sat beside his mother and watched as she continued to try her best to find consolation in the cat's company. "What's wrong?"

"…it's just like Keita," Kazusa murmured, hugging her feline friend. Her voice sounded hollow, as if something snuffed out one of her biggest internal fires.

Keita was an unspoken name in the household, but Fugaku knew who he was. Fugaku didn't know what rattled his mother enough to have her talking about her dead son. She and Sarani both talked about Keita as little as possible. "What is?"

"…Sengen. Sanjo said Kaede shook her, but the way she was _lying there by the time I came in the house_ …I just…I…"

Everything else was incoherent between her sobs. Watching somebody as strong and brave as his mother cave in like that wasn't anything Fugaku wanted to see, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her either. He wished he could comfort her, but he had to ask. "Is she dead?"

"No, but…" Kazusa wiped her face. Hers or otherwise, the death of an Uchiha child hit her worse than anything else ever could. She'd lost so many and watching other families go through that pain was unbearable. "It looks bad…"

…

"At least he's potty trained. I think we'll have more volunteers if we advertise that."

Every fourth step on their way from Uruchi's bakery, Mikoto and Fugaku lifted Itachi up a couple of feet and let him swing for a few steps. The boy enjoyed that little game, though they caught him off guard the first time and he let loose a muffled noise of surprise.

Upon noticing the boy was tired, Fugaku bent down to give Itachi a chance to ride on his back. The toddler wrapped his tiny arms around his father's neck, nuzzled up to him, and made himself quite comfortable for the remainder of the walk.

"Have you figured out who you want to babysit him while we go on this mission?" Mikoto asked. "I don't do these very often anymore, but it's a chance to see Koyamagakure together, so…"

' _You can be so transparent sometimes,'_ Fugaku thought, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Over the years, he'd kept a pen pal in the Hidden Knolls. Just as he'd grown to lead the Uchiha Clan, Chigusa had done the same for the Akane Clan. This mission was another cry for help, worse than the last time. They were on the verge of civil war.

"You don't trust me to behave myself, do you?" Fugaku raised an eyebrow at his wife, who gave him an impish grin in response. "Chigusa's a _friend_ , Mikoto. Nothing more."

"Friend or no friend, I know what the Akane _kekkei genkai_ does," Mikoto huffed, hands on her hips. "I'm going and it's final. Pick a babysitter already, since you weren't too keen with Kushina doing it."

"Kushina's still on active duty and will probably get called on a mission while we're away," Fugaku started, but Mikoto's arms were folded. Like she'd buy that as his only excuse! "I would also feel more comfortable having someone in the clan look after him."

"Not Kaede, though."

" _Definitely_ not Kaede." Yuka had a baby girl, but went back to work as soon as her maternity leave was over. Fugaku was tempted to ask her who babysat Yukari, but he didn't want to step on that landmine. Yuka would probably agree to take time off to babysit the heir apparent, but...

Mikoto tucked some of her long hair behind her ear and leaned on her husband a moment. "What about Sengen?" The hesitation on Fugaku's face made her frown. "What is it _this_ time? What's wrong with her?"

' _Aside from the fact that she's legally blind in one eye, how about the fact she's prone to seizures?'_

The whole of the clan saw Uchiha Sengen as wasted potential. There was great speculation that, had Kaede not screwed up and shaken that little girl as an infant, she could have been extraordinary.

She presently operated the front desk and dispatched KMPF squads to respond to high priority issues. Despite this, Sengen wasn't an officer, nor could she ever pass the physical to be one. Her health was bad enough to the point where the village couldn't justify graduating her from the Academy, despite her good written marks.

The insult to Sengen's injury only further intensified when it became apparent she had the sharingan. She was condemned to that infernal desk and watched enviously as cadets, sergeants, lieutenants, and even the captain himself passed by. With her thick glasses on, nothing passed her eyes. She was a perceptive thing with a trap-sharp mind, but merely lacked the stamina and strength to back it up.

"I have concerns about her health. That's all. You don't think Itachi will tire her out?"

Mikoto rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. "He's a sweet and quiet baby. I doubt he'll give her a hard time."

Quite the contrary. Fugaku was half worried that his son, nurturing and gentle thing that he was, would probably end up wanting to play nurse to that poor woman.

"If _you're_ fine with it, then I _suppose…"_


	38. Takeda Lullaby

**AUTHOR'S NOTES** : When I first wrote this chapter, I had to stop myself a few times because I was becoming visibly upset and angry. This is not a warm and fuzzy chapter. Then again, neither was the one before it.

Readers should be cautioned that the story below contains more than mere mentions of domestic violence, child abuse, infant death, and miscarriage. Those who are sensitive to such material may want to skip this chapter.

But if you really want to depress yourself, read the story and then listen to the Akai Tori version of this lullaby on YouTube with the story still in your mind. You can find it (along with a lyrics translation) at watch?v=ARzehpQmrjU

…

 **Although Keita's vocabulary wasn't very big, he loved to babble and attempt to give his own opinion at dinner. Sarani, good sport that he was, acted as if he understood and talked back to the baby to get him to do it even more.**

 **"One of these days, you'll do this on the job and the whole force will think you've gone crazy," Kazusa warned as she cleaned a dish. "Or worse: your teammates** ** _._** **I'm just picturing Buyo talking to you about a Search & Destroy and you just sitting there going ****_uh-uh, uh-uh, oooooh, I knooooow_** **in that stupid voice."**

 **She stifled a small belch, alarmed that she could taste acid in her throat. No one had to know she swallowed it down. Tonight was miso soup with tofu and seaweed since that was about as much as she could stomach eating. Sarani, too.**

 **Both called in sick yesterday and today, but she already could tell it wasn't easing up. Already, she felt her insides churning and threatening to declare mutiny. At least their baby seemed fine.**

 **"You think that's bad, dear? I can make this way worse," Sarani teased as he placed another spoonful of soup in their baby's mouth. "What if I start doing that to you when you talk in the bedroom? Keita's going to want a little brother or sister someday. Won't you, little guy?"**

 **Keita's response was incoherent, but he decided (much like his gray tabby kitten) it would be good fun to knock over the bowl. The hot soup splashed everywhere and the boy cackled in delight until he coughed.**

 **"Oooooh, you're so bad!" Sarani teased, hoisting him up. "What are we ever gonna do with you?"**

 **Keita bore a fierce resemblance to his mother with his unruly black hair and pale skin. He didn't much care for being held and made a bit of a fuss over it, but Kazusa marked that up to him being so independent-minded and stubborn: just like her. She was fiercely proud.**

 **This was her son, alright: a little monkey who peeled his eyes open during naptime because he didn't want to sleep. He'd crawl around the house to follow his kitty companion and attempt to climb things he had no business climbing, just to catch up to Jiro. Sarani made a wisecrack once that the kid must have some Sarutobi blood in him somewhere. Kazusa told him to shut the fuck up.**

 **The thing they had to watch for the most involved Keita sticking things in his mouth. Jiro's litter box was now out of reach and it was a miracle they'd caught Keita in time before he ate something he wasn't supposed to.**

 **"Please tell me you're going to give him a bath and put him to bed. I'm still doing dishes."**

 **Ugh. She hated doing dishes just about as much as she hated cleaning diapers. Sarani had been a saint and done this for her during the pregnancy because all the food smells left her feeling ill, but now they were back to taking turns. "Yeah, yeah. I got 'im…"**

 **…**

By the end of that week, Kazusa and Sarani were so ill that they relied on other people to make medicine and supply runs. They cloistered themselves off in the house and left Keita with Naho so he wouldn't get any sicker. Sure, he had a cough, but he wasn't running a fever when they handed him over.

Four days later, Naho apologetically reported that Keita took ill and died in her care.

In Kazusa's father's day, one of the greatest rewards the village boasted was that the children were more likely to make it to the age where they could taste and appreciate alcohol. Kazusa never considered drinking to be an enjoyable experience, but it did a wonderful job of making her too tired to care about anything. It was supposed to leave her temporarily with a mind too numb and dull to think about Sengen or the horrid connection her brain wanted to make.

' _She looked like Keita.'_

Sengen was uncharacteristically quiet and nearly motionless in her tiny futon. She barely responded to anything and acted lethargic. Kazusa knew she wasn't that child's parent, but she couldn't trust Sanjo to handle this on his own. She called a medic who owed her a favor to discretely help the little girl without filing a report. Even if he did, it was going to go to the KMPF, anyway.

' _Even if she lives, the damage has already been done. That child won't be the same.'_ Her whole body shook just thinking about what that would mean. The girl would need extra care and attention: something no one in her family could give her. Other people in the clan would have to pitch in for Sengen's case.

Another swig. _Another_. She had to stop thinking about how that child looked so dead. She'd held so many dead babies over the years that she couldn't stand the sight of a child who might not make it. She loved babies, but was scared to death to hold them. It upset her to the point where getting blackout drunk off the clock felt like the only way to cope.

She slept more than most people. She drank more, too. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but a necessary one. Kumoshiro sauntered by, waving his fluffy white plume tail at Kazusa as he stepped closer. He mewed for her, nudging his head against her knee.

"Hey…hey, sweetheart…"

…

 **She stared at the bloodied mess in disbelief and horror. The medics warned her it was too soon after Keita's death to attempt trying for another child, but they didn't understand. Until she and Sarani produced a living heir, the Uchiha Clan would be in crisis mode. If they went the rest of their lives childless, another family could come to power.**

 **This would have been a daughter.**

 **Some of the other superstitious people in the clan insisted Kazusa stay out of Keita's old room, just in case his ghost took offense to the pregnancy and chose to attack the new baby. She couldn't help herself. She'd gone in there, tripped on a toy, and–**

 **And her would-be daughter ceased to exist, just like that. The grief was so strong that Kazusa barely noticed her twisted ankle. She miscarried before, having a few failed pregnancies prior to Keita. Several women in the clan, even Naori, told her it was quite common, that more of them miscarried than they let on. She was young then. She and Sarani could keep trying until she carried a baby to full term.**

 **'** ** _I had my chance,'_** **she thought as her eyes welled up with tears. '** ** _I had my boy, my son…and I let him die.'_**

 **This was her punishment, maybe, for being so reckless. She'd exposed Keita's fragile immune system to that bad flu and his body couldn't handle it. Naho did what she could, but that was one sick baby. He just got sicker and** ** _sicker_** **until…** ** _until_** **…**

 **By the time Sarani returned from his mission with Iwao and Buyo, Kazusa had already cleaned up. Nothing was out of place, the same as it was before, except that she was no longer pregnant. He suspected nothing at first, not until he showed her the bucket of paint he'd picked up to repaint Keita's room for the new baby.**

 **She'd screamed and thrown it at him.**

 **…**

The cats were the best coping mechanism she had. For years, she and Sarani both tried their best to have another child. Keita lived for only a short while–

' _She looked like Keita.'_

And then it was miscarriage after miscarriage for eight miserable years. Setsuna and Keiko had Yashiro, then Kitaro and Nanami had Sanjo. Sarani's teammate Iwao insisted the two of them could be the godparents to his daughter Momoko, but that child was an Akimichi. She wasn't _theirs._ They poured their love into that girl, but it wasn't enough.

Later, Naka and Naori succeeded in having a daughter. Naori offered to let her clan head hold the baby and spend time with Yuka whenever she wished, but that wasn't the same, either. Keita's death left a void behind from which neither parent fully recovered.

Although Kazusa always had a pet cat, she only started to adopt multiples after losing Keita. With each miscarriage, another cat entered the house until, finally, she simply started taking them in regardless.

Cats were like babies. They needed her and loved her and she'd always been partial to them. Kumoshiro curled onto her lap as she continued to drink. He licked the condensation off the bottle and caught Kazusa's finger a few times.

' _She looked_ _ **exactly**_ _like Keita._ '

Her hand shook, afraid of what this could mean. Sanjo told her quite clearly what happened to his baby sister. Kaede lost her temper with the child and shook Sengen without thinking. Kaede, _Naho's daughter_ …

…

 **Somewhere along the way, she'd given up hope on holding a living baby in her arms, but there he was: staring up at her with a surly-looking scowl on his face. This son carried Sarani's slightly darker complexion, along with his brown hair. Although the nurses insisted it would be best to let the rest of the clan wait until later to see the baby, Kazusa caught sight of several others waiting to see for themselves that she'd finally done what she was meant to do: give birth to a live successor.**

 **"Is he healthy?" Sarani whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear the dread in his voice.**

 **"As an** ** _ox_** **, they tell me," Kazusa replied. "I know you were thinking about naming him after your brother, and I think–" Sarani shook his head. "Did you change your mind?"**

 **"Considering all the bad karma we've had, I'm not risking anything. He's getting his own name."**

 **"Alright. I think I have something." Kazusa's attention turned toward the two young boys waiting in the hall and smiled at them, taking her baby's hand and making him wave. "Sanjo? Yashiro? Come in here and say hello to Fugaku." Yashiro did. Sanjo furrowed his brow and asked if he** ** _had_** **to. "** ** _Fine_** **. You don't** ** _have_** **to come in, Sanjo."**

 **The next person to pay a visit was the one Kazusa wanted to see most of all. Naho stepped in cautiously, a baby of her own in a support sling. "Is this Kaede?" Kazusa asked. "She's beautiful, Naho." With her long lashes, chubby cheeks, and full head of inky black curls, that baby looked like a doll.**

 **"So everyone keeps telling me. I'm sure yours will get cuter, too," Naho teased, pulling up a chair so she could sit beside her best friend. Her fingers were cool to the touch, but most welcome on Kazusa's bare arm. "Sorry. I wasn't here to hear what you named him. Last I heard, you were thinking about Yasashī, like—"**

 **"Fugaku."**

 **"…ah."**

 **Kaede reached for one of her mother's long coil-curls and gave it a hearty yank. Naho winced and promptly pulled the child away from herself, or at least far enough so Kaede couldn't pull her hair anymore. "I'm so happy for you, Kazusa. I know how hard it's been for you and Sarani. And to think,** ** _our children_** **can grow up together. They'll be peers."**

 **"** ** _Best friends_** **, maybe," Kazusa added with a hopeful tone. "Maybe they'll even fall in love and get married someday. We could both be grannies to the same baby." It was a dangerous game to plan the future too far ahead, but she was a new mother again and Naho was a mother for the first time. Kazusa wanted to dream.**

 **"Would you like to swap babies for a moment and hold him, Naho? I can take Kaede off your hands."**

 **A brief flicker of worry passed Naho's face. "I probably shouldn't. After what happened with Keita, I–"**

 **Kazusa pulled her beloved friend into a one-armed hug, squeezing her close to her chest. "He caught the flu from Sarani and me.** ** _None_** **of that was your fault. Let's just focus on the present today, okay? Now humor your old friend and say hello to your nephew."**

 **…**

' _Kaede…Naho wasn't very gentle with you, either, was she…?'_ She didn't like what this sake was doing to her brain, but she couldn't stop. ' _What if it wasn't the flu? What if Kaede learned that behavior and Naho had…what if Naho…'_

Fugaku would be home soon. Buyo made it clear yesterday his team would only be taking on a morning mission so he and Sarani could accept a Search & Destroy case with Iwao. And yet it slipped Kazusa's mind entirely until she saw Fugaku waving goodbye to Hyūga Hizashi.

By that point, it was too late. She'd already made it to her third bottle, all in an attempt to drown everything out. Even if she lied and told her son this was her first one, her face would be too ruddy for Fugaku to believe her. The older he got, the more he called her on her shit.

Fugaku stared at her first in annoyance, as if he couldn't believe she was doing this in the early afternoon, but he quickly seemed to realize something was amiss. His expression turned to one of concern. " _Okaa-san_ …?" He cautiously took a seat beside her. She kept petting the cat. "What's wrong?"

' _So much,'_ she admitted mentally, but the words refused to come out. ' _Sanjo's little sister is probably going to die. If she lives, it's not like the brain damage is going to go away. I'm thinking about your brother and how much she looked like him and–'_

"…it's just like Keita," Kazusa murmured, burying her face in the cat's fur. Kumoshiro squirmed and let loose a small whine of annoyance, but did little else.

"What is?"

She couldn't tell him everything. He'd probably only confirm her fears and make matters worse. Fugaku didn't hold any love in his heart for his aunt. Quite the contrary; Kazusa knew how much he hated Naho. He hadn't been terribly fond of Kaede lately, either.

Truth be told, the girl had started to worry the clan head, too. There didn't seem to be anything good in her. Children starved for affection were frightening and potentially destructive. Sanjo was chaotic enough, but Kaede _really_ took the prize this time. She hurt an innocent child. She may have even _killed_ the child.

"Sengen. Sanjo said Kaede shook her, but the way she was lying there by the time I came in the house…I just…I…"

She'd had a panic attack. Her ankles were too weak to support her and she'd hyperventilated until she was on the verge of fainting. Her heart beat too fast, she broke into a sweat, and everything around her felt wrong. Sanjo caught her and stood by until the fit was over. He promised not to tell anyone, but she'd seen the fear in his eyes.

By the time Kazusa left, her mind tried again to digest this terrible thing, but old ghosts had a way of coming out of nowhere and grabbing her by the legs and knocking her off her feet.

"Is Sengen dead?"

"No, but…" Kazusa wiped her face. "It looks bad…"

…

The only way she'd find any peace of mind with these suspicions would be if she confronted Naho about them. She'd need to, anyway, considering Kaede was responsible for little Sengen's injuries. That girl would have to pay. One way or another, she'd have to make things right.

By morning, Kazusa's first order of business involved checking to see if Sengen's condition stabilized. Thankfully, the little girl would live to see another day, but she wasn't exactly going to bounce back. The Uchiha Clan were a proud clan. Kazusa hadn't taken the news very well when the medic informed her that the village couldn't in good conscience see a future where this child would ever be a kunoichi.

That was a huge blow. As immature and reckless as Sengen's parents and older brother were, they were a very bright family. They'd had such high hopes for the twins. Now they'd only be able to have hopes for Hideo.

By the time Kazusa made her way to Uchiha Tenjin's estate, her blood was boiling. Kaede stood outside, trimming back an evergreen plant. When she saw the clan head approach, her first inclination was to smile at her auntie and offer to get her mother. Kazusa glared, her hand twitching at her side. It itched to slap Kaede's face, but that wouldn't solve anything. Kaede recognized the expression for what it was and put more distance between the clan head and herself.

"Naho!" Kazusa roared, kicking a pair of shoes she nearly tripped over. "Where the hell are you!?"

"I'm in here," Naho responded in that same calm, nonchalant tone she carried unless something greatly upset her. That was the _nothing's wrong and everything's fine_ tone. It sounded so fake. "I'm only doing my makeup, Kazusa. Come in."

Kazusa stepped into the bathroom and noticed her best friend was topless save for her gold-colored brassiere. A whole slew of ugly burn scars littered Naho's torso from the collarbone to the navel: every bit as vulgar and dark pink as they'd been when the wounds first healed. They'd been twelve years old then; well over thirty years ago.

Despite this, Kaede still believed Naho to be the more beautiful between the two of them. With that willowy body, her delicate-looking bone structure, and her long, slender limbs…she was to be envied. Kazusa had always been much sturdier in her build: bigger bones, thicker muscles, and a bit of padding from every pregnancy (successful or otherwise) she couldn't quite get rid of. She felt large, mannish, and clumsy next to her old same. Men didn't offer to paint portraits of Uchiha Kazusa unless she paid them to do so.

That makeup was for Naho's face, though. Kazusa caught sight of a bruise on the right side of her jaw, adjacent to a split in her bottom lip. ' _That's still going on, huh? I wish you'd report him.'_ But she never did.

"I heard about the incident." Not the child. The _incident._ "You're here to talk about Kaede with me." Naho dabbed more concealer on the spot until her painted face was yet again perfect. She noted the lines by her eyes and sighed. There were some things makeup couldn't fix anymore.

"Somebody should! Sengen's probably going to live, but her prognosis isn't good. Kaede's lucky she didn't kill her."

"My daughter's always been an angry girl, Kazusa," Naho replied coldly. "It's only been recently that other people are starting to get hurt."

"She knocked one of my son's teeth out when they were in Academy. Remember _that_?" Kazusa hadn't forgotten. "I know you made her apologize, but this can't continue. Something needs to be done."

"I agree with you." Another spot of makeup, another pretty piece of paint over a chip in the foundation. "I know it isn't enough, but I'm at least planning on forcing Kaede to withdraw her registration for the Chūnin Exam."

Kazusa folded her arms and leaned against the wall as Naho brushed her curly hair back into a tight bun. "Don't do that. It's not enough and it's punishing her teammates. They didn't do anything wrong." Her son had been helping the Shimura boy on Kaede's team train for that exam. That boy wanted to climb up to the next rank so badly. Being held back on account of Kaede's actions would crush him. "At the very least, your family should cover whatever medical expenses Sengen accumulates so she'll get the best possible care."

"How bad is the damage?" There it was at long last: _concern_. "Kaede didn't scramble her brain _too_ badly, did she?"

"That's just it. We don't know how bad it is yet, but Sengen had a seizure at the hospital yesterday. She doesn't have a history of epilepsy." Kazusa watched as Naho cringed. "There's also a torn retina in one of her eyes. They aren't even sure if surgery would fix the problem." Naho grimaced further, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm going to write up and authorize a mass restraining order keeping your daughter away from any child in the clan under the age of six, just to be on the safe side."

She thought Naho would argue with her and tell her that she was overreacting, but she didn't. The way Naho quietly nodded and rubbed her lips together meant something else was going on. "And if Kitaro, Nanami, or Sanjo think of anything _else_ , then–the hell, Naho? She's _your_ daughter. I don't know how she could have turned out like this!"

Naho's fingers curled around the edges of her powder pink sink. She stared at her reflection and let loose a slow, long huff of air from her nostrils. "It's rich that you keep calling her _my_ daughter. Don't forget; she's also Tatsumi's daughter."

…

 **All she wished to do was close her eyes, especially the black one her husband hit hard enough to swell shut. Now he was right beside her, stroking her bony shoulder and giving it a few light kisses.**

 **"I'm sorry," he cooed, trying to sound tender. Naho wasn't convinced. Tatsumi never fooled her with this routine. "I just…I saw those pills and…"**

 **His fingers dug into her skin. He preferred to take her from behind so he wouldn't have to look at her chest. The first time he'd seen her without her clothes, he'd been disgusted and accused Tenjin of tricking him into marrying damaged goods.**

 **"You know how much I want a family. You** ** _don't?_** **"**

 **Naho didn't. Not after everything that went on inside her family. She especially didn't wish to reward Tatsumi's behavior with any progeny. Marrying this bastard was the biggest betrayal her father ever saddled her with. "I'm godmother to the heir apparent. That's enough for me."**

 **And she could hear him mewling in the other room, occasionally coughing and whimpering for his mother. Keita reminded her of the baby pictures she'd seen of Kazusa and she could already tell this little boy would grow up to be so much like her. They had the same adventurous streak, the same goofy face, and the ability to pitch a fit like no other.**

 **Tatsumi maneuvered behind her and Naho tensed up, grimacing and grabbing for the sheets. Her husband never lasted long, so that was at least a blessing. She covered her face with a pillow and placed the pinstriped sheets to her mangled chest as he did what husbands were supposed to do. One, two, three, his barrel stomach poking against her narrow spine.**

 **He was a strong man with a thick chest and powerful arms, both of which he loved to use. He'd pick her up, push her down, yank her hair, pin her to the bed, and give her more things to cover with her pretty clothes,** ** _especially_** **if she sassed him back.**

 **Naho assumed she'd been the one crying until she heard Tatsumi swear. He took his hands off her and rolled over. With that much noise in the house, he couldn't perform. He'd lost the momentum, all because of the infant in the other room.**

 **…**

The silence in the room was palpable. Kazusa knew for a long time her best friend's marriage was an unhappy one, but there wasn't much anyone could do about it.

' _I have to say it. I'll kick myself if I don't_.'

The clan head took a deep breath, readied herself, and continued. "You didn't see the baby. I did. The way she behaved, it reminded me so much of what you told me about Keita's final days."

Naho took a low, ragged breath and moved to sit on the porcelain of the bathtub, one long and creamy white leg crossed over the other. Her hand stroked Kazusa's thigh, giving the meatiest part a gentle pat. "You should really stop torturing yourself, Kazusa. Keita's death was out of your hands."

And judging from just how tense Naho was, Kazusa dreaded what this could mean. For all these years, she'd blamed herself for being so reckless. She and Sarani were young and naive then: brand new parents with a precocious son. "Maybe, but I want to hear it again from you."

Naho glanced at the edge of the tub, noticing a crack in one of the tiles. She touched it with her fingertip and rubbed it. "You left Keita with me when you and Sarani were sick. I thought he was fine at first, aside from a little cough. I gave him some juice and a little medicine, thinking it would help."

…

 **It wasn't working.** ** _Why wasn't it working?!_**

 **Tenjin was the first person she'd asked for help. As a father of six, surely he'd know what to do. Keita's cheeks were typically rosy, but this went beyond infant ruddiness. Merely touching him felt like placing her hand in front of a fireplace.**

 **He coughed and whimpered in Naho's arms. "It's just your auntie," she soothed. "Only** ** _Naho-oba_** **…" She'd held him so many times before and he usually quieted down for her. There weren't that many good babies in the clan, but Keita typically behaved for her.**

 **Either that or Kazusa and Sarani knew how to make him behave. He'd cried almost every waking hour since they left him here.**

 **'** ** _He loves to be rocked,'_** **she remembered Kazusa telling her. Attempting that, the baby seemed to quiet down until another wet and croupy cough left his lungs. '** ** _He loves it when people sing to him.'_**

 **He wouldn't love her voice. Hers was rough, raw, and gravelly from years of releasing fireballs and smoking with the only man who truly loved her. That man didn't live under this roof. Still, she knew the precise song she wished to sing for the child.**

 **"** ** _I would hate babysitting beyond Bon Festival_** **," she began. "** ** _The snow begins to fall and the baby cries._** **.."**

 **Her own mother used to sing this. All her brothers knew it. The lullaby was often sung by those tainted with unclean and unwanted positions. For a family of arsonists, nothing could be more befitting.**

 **Keita sniffled, quieting down a little. Naho's voice left him wide-eyed, unsure of the wheezy noises leaving her throat. "** ** _This child continues to cry and is mean to me."_** **It came out as a sob from his aunt this time. "** ** _Every day I grow thinner. I would…"_** **He was silent in her arms for now. "** ** _I would quickly quit here and go back to my parents' home over there…_** **"**

 **…**

"He cried a lot. I'd rock him and he'd calm down. I even sang for him, not that I'm any good. One night, he was so fussy. Kazusa, he was _burning up_ …"

…

 **The fever refused to go down. By the time Kazusa left Keita in Naho's care, the clan head already felt as though she could fry an egg on her forehead. This sort of illness could be deadly for a baby, but now Keita refused to take the medicine. All he wanted to do was cry and wake his auntie up at odd hours.**

 **He broke out of his crib that night and crawled down the hall. Once or twice, he stopped to vomit in a corner, but he made enough noise to wake the dead. As a result, Naho's two surviving brothers woke up and yelled for her to go grab the baby before he woke up their father.**

 **She staggered out of bed, feeling the cold hard wood on her bare feet. At one point, she stepped on something wet and hot, considering herself fortunate only or the fact it was too dark to see it in much detail. The acidic smell of baby vomit filled her nose and she wanted to puke, too.**

 **Naho lurched forward as soon as she found Keita toddling his way into the bathroom. He couldn't talk in anything other than nonsense yet, but that hardly made him a stupid child. She watched for a moment as he opened a drawer, trying to look for something. The whole time, he coughed and bawled, putting one tiny hand to his feverish brow.**

 **"SHUT THAT BRAT UP ALREADY!" Tatsumi yowled from their bedroom.**

 **'** ** _And to think you want to be a father,'_** **Naho thought darkly as she scooted into the bathroom to sit near the baby. "What are you looking for, Keita?" There were dark rings under her eyes from sleep deprivation.**

 **The toddler glanced up at her with his mother's big black eyes. They welled up with feverish tears and for a brief moment, he turned silent. But perhaps he wasn't a carbon copy of Kazusa after all because when Naho reached for him, he shied away and threw a box of bandages at her. It hit her in the face.**

 **She could accept that from her husband, she supposed, but not a baby. "Your mother raised you better than that. Stop." He didn't. When she picked his overheated body up, he wailed as if she'd taken a red hot poker to his ribs.**

 **'** ** _He's sick and in a house he barely knows with unfamiliar faces everywhere. No wonder he's scared.'_** **She tried to justify his actions so it would bother her less, but Keita's tantrums never stopped for any longer than an hour. He'd been here for three days.**

 **Usually, Keita was a giggling little imp who couldn't help but make her smile back. He truly had to be ill to behave this way. "** ** _Stop_** **," she begged him, her own voice becoming panicked.**

 **'** ** _I saw how sick your parents were. You won't keep the medicine down. You just keep puking and puking and…can't you hold ANYTHING down?!'_** **If she could have a few hours of sleep, then she'd feel refreshed enough to think straight.**

 **"If you don't quiet him down," Tatsumi warned, "I will."**

 **"Keita,** ** _hush,_** **" Naho pleaded, feeling as though she were already at her wit's end. Keita squirmed and coughed until he vomited on her. She shrieked and pulled him away from her before she realized what she'd done.**

 **His head hit the edge of the pink granite sink. Keita's eyes took on a disoriented expression for a brief moment, and then rolled back.**

 **The baby quieted down, stunned, but next came a gurgling noise that left Naho in a fit of panic. She thumped his back, trying to get the rest of the blockage out. Another gurgle, then nothing. He seemed stupefied.**

 **"No…no…" She tried to shake him back into waking up, but it didn't work. All she got out of her godson was another gurgle.**

 **The final scream was hers.**

 **…**

"When I checked on Keita the next morning, he was unresponsive. At first, I thought he was sleeping. It was the first time the whole visit he looked so peaceful." She twisted a piece of hair around her finger until a serpentine curl came out. "But then I picked him up."

…

 **She knew it was the fatigue and the grief and the guilt making her act this way, but she wanted to believe that if she kept rocking him that something would change. If she gave him more medicine and a warm bath and a clean diaper, then maybe that would magically undo the fact she'd found Keita cold and stiff in his crib with a mouth full of vomit.**

 **He warmed up in the bathtub and eventually his joints felt pliable again, but that didn't make his heart beat. She combed the tangles from his fluffy black hair, but that didn't make him cry. She poked his nose in the way he liked, but he didn't smile back at her or wrap his little hands around her wrist. The bandage box from yesterday still sat on the floor from where he'd thrown it at her.**

 **'** ** _He must have choked in his sleep. He was on his back, so maybe…'_**

 **"You can cry all you want. Scream your head off. Just** ** _do_** **something," she sobbed, burying her face in his clean onesie. What would she tell her friend? "Keita. Keita,** ** _please_** **…"**

 **She and Kazusa had been together since they were born. They did everything together. This baby was going to be the focus of all her love for Kazusa. She would proudly support him as he grew big and strong into a leader for this proud family. If anything happened to Kazusa and Sarani, she was prepared to become a second mother to Keita. She didn't want to have children.**

 **All she wanted was to spoil and cherish Kazusa's little blessing. Any love she could have possibly bore for a child had gone to this sweet baby boy and she'd been terrible to him, just because he'd fussed at her.**

 **"Naho…" a calm voice called out. "Stop."**

 **Naho lifted her head to see her father standing there in his goldenrod yukata. He came closer with slow, purposeful steps. Arthritis made him far less agile than he'd been in his prime, as had a long life of hard living. His scarred pink hand touched her face, wiping the tears away. "It doesn't matter how much care you try to show him now. You killed that child."**

 **"What do I** ** _do_** **?!" she asked, quivering all over. "I didn't mean…it was–"**

 **…**

"By the time you brought him to me, it was too late. Keita was already sick." Her father knew the truth, but Tenjin told her precisely what to say. The truth would be the death of Kazusa's love for her and she knew it. They'd gone over the story at least a hundred times before Sarani came by to collect his son. "He choked on his own vomit while I was asleep.

"All the love I could have given a child, I feel like I lost it when Keita died. How could I possibly become attached to any child of my own when I…" Her voice broke and all that hard work to paint her pretty face fell apart all over again.

Eyeliner went everywhere along with spidery streams of mascara across caked foundation. As she wept and rubbed her face with her hands, her face took on the color of a dead fish with occasional hues of purple and an ugly yellowish-green.

Even though that nagging feeling remained in Kazusa's heart, she didn't want to believe it. She wished she could believe Naho, but her mind wouldn't permit it. She stepped out, never realizing her first child met his demise in that exact same bathroom.

"You're leaving?" Naho pleaded. "You just show up and _leave_? Kazusa, please–"

This house did things to people. It was part of why Kazusa didn't want Fugaku to play in here when he was younger. She made her way down that extravagant hall, braid swaying behind her like the angry tail of a wild cat. If she thought about this too much, she'd go insane.

If she _stayed_ here, she'd go insane.


	39. The Night Before

"What do you see us doing if we pass?" It didn't matter that they trained for half the afternoon. Now was as good a stopping point as any. "I don't know what I want to do. I just know I don't want my family to be any part of it."

"No?" That surprised Mikuro, hearing this from Kaede. By comparison, he wanted the admiration and respect of a man in his clan above all others. If _that man_ could be won over, the rest of the Shimura Clan would inevitably follow. "I thought you were gung ho about learning all those freaky jutsu from your grandfather."

The girl simply shrugged.

"Suit yourself, then. I have every intention of joining the ANBU when this is over." It felt like the most honorable choice.

"Me too!" Neyuki confessed, which somewhat surprised his teammates. "That or possibly getting my foot in the door with a Search & Destroy team. How badass would _that_ be?!"

If ANBU wasn't in the cards for him, Mikuro felt that maybe Search & Destroy wouldn't be a bad place to end up. So-called vulture squads made good money and took down those who defected from missions, ran away from villages, and carried treason in their hearts. Such people needed to be eliminated.

"Whatever we end up doing, let's do it together," the Inuzuka boy insisted, grinning. "All three of us."

And yet all Kaede did was grumble about how wearing a ceramic mask all day would give you a bad case of acne. "I read somewhere that it's better to relax the day before a test than it is to cram at the last minute."

When she made remarks like that, Mikuro rolled his eyes. "That only works if you studied hard beforehand." Which he did. He'd even contemplated asking Mitsumi to show him some basic decryption, just in case it came up on the written portion of the exam. At least Tohru offered to help him. "Did you and Neyuki do that?"

"Of course we did; you _insisted_!" Neyuki laughed and threw one last kunai at the trap to set it off. Cage doors snapped and sprung shut, leaving the whole field in chaos. "If any team's ready to take this thing, _we are_. Isn't that right, Ashimaru?"

His dog happily wagged his tail and barked, wanting to play fetch now that the field was safe. His master was more than happy to oblige.

"Good boy! Good _boy_! If we pass this thing and come out as chūnin, I'm buying you enough doggie treats to make you fat and happy!"

"We'll take it easy today and treat ourselves to something nice." Kaede wrapped her arms around Neyuki's shoulders and gave his cheek a kiss. "Won't we? I was thinking about going to that cute little tea store Mitsumi told me about. Ne, Neyuki- _kun_ …"

And there it was: the overly saccharine lovey-dovey tone that made Mikuro want to take his leave from his teammates for the day…or at least Kaede. Neyuki was perfectly fine without her. He'd deal with this crap at the exam. There was no point in torturing himself with it today.

Besides, Mikuro already noticed Tohru approaching in the distance and he was _precisely_ the person he wanted to see. Excusing himself from the sappy young couple, he rushed over to his best friend. "Well?" Mikuro could barely contain his excitement. "Did you get the pass to the advanced section for me?"

Tohru, despite not being a genin, recently received an appointment as a clerk within Konoha Archives. It was civilian work, save for those who actually guarded the scrolls and tomes. His role was little more than that of a glorified librarian, but at least it meant he had a chance to peruse some of the most fascinating artifacts the Hidden Leaf had to offer. It also meant he ran errands for the Konoha Council and looked up resource material for their more detailed reports.

Tohru glanced up at his friend and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. Already, a sheepish smile made its way to his sleepy-eyed face. "Sorry to let you down," he apologized. "They told me a chūnin has to sign for you, saying you're responsible enough to study those jutsu."

Great. Now Mikuro was doing that thing where he gestured his frustration by shaking his tensed-up hands. They turned into a pair of large spiders, both within a few inches from the sides of his head. When he did this, it looked as though he angrily grabbed an invisible melon. Then came the sigh and slow shaking of his head. Was he, perhaps, prone to migraines like his mother?

"I don't see why you're so angry with me. I _tried_ ," Tohru defensively snapped, arms folded. With every annoyed huff leaving his voice, so too came irked fog clouds in the cold winter air. "What more do you expect me to do, Mikuro? They turned me down. Can one of your parents–"

"I'm not dragging either one of them into this," Mikuro snapped. He grabbed Tohru's wrist and stormed off with him, marching in annoyance down the street. "I'd sooner ask _Fugaku_ for help." He heard his friend huff out a tiny laugh. "What? He's a chūnin."

"That he is," Tohru conceded. "He's the only one from our class right now to hold that rank. That'll change when you pass. _Maybe_ Neyuki."

"And Kaede."

Tohru waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. Kaede- _chan's_ gonna do what Kaede- _chan_ always does and give up." Mikuro squeezed his wrist a little tighter. "Stop that. It hurts."

"You're underestimating my team. They worked their asses off to get to this level." Maybe they hadn't applied themselves as much as he had, but they were nothing to laugh at. "And Kaede can make hotter flames than Fugaku can. Surely that has to count for something."

And there it was again: that light and carefree laugh Tohru tended to do when he ceased to pay attention with any seriousness. Some people found it endearing. Mikuro didn't. All that did was frustrate him.

"You'll see, Tohru. My whole team will pass. We'll set our futures in motion this much faster. In another generation, I'll be the man in my clan everyone will wish to emulate." They'd forgive him for his father and see him in his own right.

"I'm not laughing at you. It's just… _Kaede-chan's_ a little…" Tohru waved his hand a little, cringing. "Whatever. I'm sure you'll do great, even without my help. Now come on. Let's grab a bite to eat for good luck." He tugged his friend along, taking the lead, and rolled his eyes again in mild exasperation when Mikuro grumbled he'd really been counting on Tohru's support. "I know, I know…"

…

At long last, the cast could come off.

"I'm sure we could have removed it a week ago," Hiashi insisted, thumping it with his hand. Somebody had been classy enough to draw a dick on it. "My leg feels as strong as stone and the medics at the hospital said it healed cleanly." He hardly chose to lie around and do nothing during the past couple of months. While his brother continued going on missions with Fugaku (and that girl Hiashi refused to call anything other than "The Replacement"), Hiashi trained with his father. Technique after technique, jutsu after jutsu…he'd leave Hizashi behind in the dust.

"I'm glad for you," Hizashi confided. "But I think the first thing you should do is wash your leg. It smells _terrible."_ Almost like the body dump. Just as Hizashi opened his mouth to say something else, Hiashi decided to stick his now-freed leg underneath his twin's nose.

"Hiashi!" Their mother, Hyūga Hikari, had been a long time master of the death glare. Today, for the first time in several weeks, she chose to use it on her elder son. "Your brother did such a good job keeping your wounds clean and looking out for you while you recovered. Be _nice_."

But boys would be boys, she supposed, and that meant he'd torment his twin with a leg that smelled like death itself. "Keep it up and I'll break it again," she warned. Hiashi stopped, choosing to give his mother the most angelic face he could muster, and pulled his brother into a one-armed hug instead. Hizashi didn't return it, but it appeared to be enough to satiate Hikari's annoyance.

Once she departed and left the twins unsupervised, Hiashi noticed his brother tensed up. "Relax, would you? I'm just playing around." Hizashi's eyes wandered toward a bottle of astringent and poured the liquid onto a rag. The fabric felt cold and clean against Hiashi's leg, leaving him shivering. "You aren't upset that I'm better now, are you?"

"Why would I be?"

Hiashi frowned. ' _That isn't a_ _ **no**_ _.'_ He watched as Hizashi continued to clean his leg for him, being certain to do so with care. "It's okay if you are. I know I've been a pain to deal with lately. I want to work on that." No matter how much authority the clan sought to give him as the next in line, Hiashi wasn't about to forget Hizashi was his identical twin.

Sure, his father wanted him to assert dominance and get used to being in control, but it still felt unnatural. It felt _wrong_. "So once we come out of this, win or lose, let's work together. Okay?" There it was: the meek smile he wanted this whole time. Hizashi finally hugged him back. "But are we taking the exam, just the two of us, or–"

"Um…if you're _fine_ with it…" Hizashi put the wash rag down and cleared his throat. "Yuka says she can fill the third spot one last time, just so we can sign up as a three-man cell. I know you had some choice words for her when she–" Hiashi's laugh threw him off. "What's so funny?"

"I was jealous because she replaced _me_. If she's replacing _Fugaku_ , I have no problem with it." But he would. He had no idea how much he'd end up butting heads with Yuka, but all hell was about to break loose. "Is there anything I should worry about?"

"…only that she's every bit as bossy as _you_ are…"

…

Five months were five too many to go this long without checking up on his friend. The instant Mitsumi responded to Fugaku's letter—and, snarky little thing that she was, _she wrote it in code—_ both decided it would be good for the both of them to catch up.

They'd since returned to doing this once a week. It wasn't much, merely grabbing a bite to eat and chatting about the "good old days," but it was a start. She chose the place today and appeared to be in high spirits again. Then again, wasn't she always if she suggested eating at Watanabe Sushi? She could eat her weight in spicy tuna and sea cucumber. In the background, Fugaku saw the chef and store owner wink in their direction.

' _You're never going to be lonely, Shinohara. You have friends everywhere_.'

Mitsumi's brown eyes were quite animated today: wide and eager to share some sort of good news. "Did you know they chose _my_ cryptography question for the written test?!" Mitsumi was over the moon when it came to that announcement. True, she was still a genin and had no intention of climbing up to a higher rank anytime soon. There was no need when all her missions involved nothing more than sitting in an office all day cracking foreign codes and translating notes for Konoha Intelligence.

"I honestly have nobody to thank more than you," she admitted, pushing the tiny ceramic plate of gyoza toward her former teammate. "If you hadn't written that coded letter and forced me to crack it, I would have forgotten how much I used to love cryptography. It's like you brought me back from the dead."

"Nah." Fugaku didn't see it that way, but he certainly wouldn't miss an opportunity to stick one of those delicious dumplings in his mouth. "You're being melodramatic. All I did was write you. I'm sorry I didn't do so sooner." He felt her hand on his back and heard her chuckle. "We were friends long before we were teammates, Shinohara. I want to make sure we stay that way."

This was a new chapter in their lives and all he felt was relief. Mitsumi bore no animosity toward the Hyūga twins and often asked him how they were holding up as Team Buyo. She liked to hear about their adventures and what Fugaku was up to these days, but she clearly didn't miss field missions.

"We were _all_ friends before we belonged to teams. Don't you think it would be nice if we did what we used to do?" Fugaku wasn't sure what she meant at first, but Mitsumi continued with her musings. "We used to swear we'd make time for each other to catch up and do something. Once a week, once a month: _something_. The only people who regularly visited me were Kaede and Tohru- _kun_."

' _Of course he'd visit you. Tohru's the kind of guy who can't stand to see others in pain.'_ The last news Fugaku had on Tohru, he'd heard from Mikuro. Even though Tohru had been ready to pass the Academy exam for years, he never became a genin and aged out of the program. The whole thing still felt suspicious to him, leaving Fugaku wondering if Nawaki's old suspicions were true.

"And now me, right?"

"Yes. Now you, too. Want some of my sea cucumber, Fugaku- _kun_?"

"That's all yours." He couldn't stand the taste or the texture. "Have I told you I'll be helping proctor the written test?" In short, he'd be sitting in the back of the room and watching the test-takers to make sure he didn't catch anyone cheating. "Buyo- _sensei_ and I also have plans to watch the one-on-one matches if Hiashi and Hizashi make it that far." He planned to stick around and watch Yuka, too. "Unless a mission comes up, of course."

"I'll stay to watch everyone we know," Mitsumi decided. "Even Neyuki and Mikuro. Who knows? _Maybe_ I'll finally get to see this girlfriend of yours and see if she's worth your time."

There was a slight hint of something in Mitsumi's tone that Fugaku didn't much care for, but he chose to ignore it. Mitsumi was a dear friend and once again found herself in a good place emotionally. Nawaki was gone, yes, and he'd died a horrible death. That didn't mean he would want his teammates to go through life in perpetual mourning for him.

Quite the contrary. Nawaki would want them to do their best, chase their dreams, and support somebody worthy who shared _his_ dream. That and he'd want them to continue giving Mikuro a hard time, just because.

"As your friend and former teammate, I'm curious to see what kind of girls you're into," Mitsumi insisted, that tone coming out again. "Sweet ones? Pretty ones? _Bossy_ ones?"

Fine. If she was going to be this way, he'd play along. "Right now I'm into girls who can kick my ass: something _you_ never managed to do." Now she elbowed him in the side and made a teasing growling noise, which only made Fugaku chuckle. At least they could joke about it. He had no idea she was being serious.

"Aw. Are we _interrupting_ you two lovebirds?"

Fugaku turned around to see Mikuro's smarmy face. Right beside him, merrily waving his hand in greeting, was Tohru. "Yes, fuck face. You interrupted us. Hi, Tohru!" Though his own tone turned teasing as he gestured toward two vacant bar stools adjacent to Mitsumi and himself. Mikuro sat beside Mitsumi, Tohru beside Fugaku. "I'm surprised you aren't cramming for the written exam, Mikuro."

"Nah. I came here with an ulterior motive," Mikuro confessed as he ordered unagi for himself. "I was hoping Shinohara here could give me the answer to her question. Word is she wrote the code part this time around." He leaned in a bit closer, smirk turning into a grin. "How about it, Mitsumi? I buy you dinner, you help me pass?"

Mitsumi simply laughed and took a long, hearty swig of her tea before tilting Mikuro's bar stool away from her. "Absolutely not."

"If you're that desperate, you're gonna fail," Tohru sighed, slowly shaking his head. "Maybe you'll still be a genin by the time _I_ join the ranks."

"What: when I'm _old and gray_? Your mother's got you in protective custody until this war's over, pal." There. He said it. He said what they were all thinking. Fugaku stared at Mikuro for a moment in disbelief, stunned he had the balls to say it aloud. What surprised him more was that Tohru appeared to be mildly embarrassed, nothing more. "Why won't you go out with me, Shinohara?"

Great. Now Mitsumi squirmed over being put on the spot like this. "You really want to know why? You won't like my answer."

"If it's because I come across as a jerk, it's–"

What came out of Mitsumi's mouth next left Fugaku biting his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle his childish snickering. Perhaps it was cruel to laugh at Mikuro for having a crush, but watching him be put in his place by the object of his unrequited affection tickled Fugaku far too much for him to think about being nice. _Fuck_ being nice. Apparently Tohru felt the same way, considering he appeared to be hanging off the edge of his bar stool.

Mitsumi took in a deep breath, delicious dumpling held in her chopsticks. By now, Fugaku noticed even the sushi chef was eavesdropping on this whole ordeal. "It's because every time I see you, I can't take you seriously," she confessed. "It's like you're trying to compensate for something, and I can't figure out what it is."

…

There were people from all over signing up to register for the event. "Were there this many when you took the exam?" Yuka asked, mildly annoyed Fugaku chose to wear his vest today…and merely shrugged to answer her question.

What could he say? He wanted to rub it in a bit and show everyone he'd already passed this thing. A few foreigners eyed his vest with jealousy, whispering among themselves. ' _Yes. Covet me. Be angry.'_

"At least give me a good luck kiss," Yuka demanded, pointing to her cheek. Just to rile her up, Fugaku walked away to report for duty. "You _ass_! I'll get you for this later!"

What caught him by surprise was that he recognized one of the foreign participants. Off in the corner, sporting a headband only a select few would recognize, was a tawny-eyed girl with a distinct peppery aroma following her with every step. This was Akane Chigusa of Koyamagakure: his pen pal.

By this point, he couldn't meet and greet with those hoping to take the exam. Before too long, he needed to step alongside the senior proctors and take his place for the written exam, but he could eavesdrop for at least a while longer.

Mikuro appeared to be talking to her with much enthusiasm, even with Kaede leering at him. "Why, yes!" Fugaku heard the Shimura boy insist. "I _am_ the #1 genin in my village right now."

"No you're not," Kaede growled. "But his dad wrote a super cute kids manga you might know!" And this was how she chose to stop the boys on her team from flirting with a foreigner. "Ever heard of **_Happy God-kun_** _?_ "

Chigusa's eyes went wide at that and she covered her mouth to stifle her laughs. "You've _got_ to be joking. Guys! Come over here!" She beckoned her teammates to step closer. "This guy's dad wrote **_Happy God-kun_**!"

By the time Fugaku left that room, people were chanting the catch phrase from that stupid comic and Mikuro appeared to be seething. After the written exam was over, Fugaku already had a B-Rank mission lined up. Taking some time away from the village, going abroad, and letting everyone focus on the exam seemed like the best possible thing.

Who knew? When he came back, maybe that angry boy over there would have a vest like his. Maybe his cousin, maybe his girlfriend, maybe Chigusa, or maybe even one of the twins…

He'd find out soon enough.


	40. The Highest Form of Flattery

That was the beauty of theater. Truly, he could become anyone or anything.

Today, he played the part of _Kobutorijiisan_ : an old man twice his natural age with an unsightly lump on his cheek. All around him were men in ugly, horned masks: _oni_. These monsters drank and partied all night, dancing and having a grand time. Despite the old man's fears, he joined in the dance and wowed these reckless creatures. The demons were so impressed that they invited him to come back the following day and removed the lump from his cheek. Of course, then the greedy neighbor—the more interesting role, if he was being honest—grew jealous and tried to do the same thing in the woods.

He prepared for the role for weeks, reviewing the manuscript and every action expected for the purpose of drama. The actors in the _oni_ masks stared him down, putting their empty sake bottles back to the table. They wanted to see him dance.

The more complicated and extravagant he made the dance, the more the crowd would whisper and shower him with love when the production concluded. It meant he'd cemented himself as the Land of Smoke's Most Beloved Entertainer once again. The reinvented man could triumph again as the eternal celebrity darling of the most industrialized economy on the continent. The past could die a thousand times over. That wasn't _him_ anymore. He never had to return to the past; his old self died seven years ago.

In the crowd, he caught a glimpse of his fiancée. She sat there in her fine fur coat, carrying a bouquet of the biggest reddest roses he'd ever seen in his life. Her lips were painted to match and parted, blowing a kiss for him. " _Dance, baby_ ," he saw her mouth part in silence. " _Dance your heart out_."

The first few steps came from an exotic dancer he'd shamefully gawked at in an attempt to master her moves. The director thought him mad to request a pole be added to the set, saying it was irreverent to the content of the story and no one would want to see an ugly old man dance like a stripper, but who was laughing now? The people roared with applause as he supported his weight and stretched his legs in ways most men couldn't muster. They cheered for him to dance even more, and who was he to deny them?

Next came the more traditional steps from a foreign clan's _Red Sun Dance_. By now, people whistled and begged for more, wanting to see what else he could do. Every move, every motion, originally came from somebody else. He'd learned it through observation from the best learning tool an actor could have.

And now that tool throbbed in his sockets with enough pain to make him lose a step and twist his ankle on stage. He hit the ground with a thud, clutching his leg in the worst pain he'd experienced since he abandoned his former life.

As he lay there, watching in shame as the director apologized to the theater that the play would have to be postponed, he saw his fiancée stare back at him with her disappointed green eyes. She looked worried, like she believed this could mark the death of his career.

"What do you think caused him to trip?" a woman in the front row whispered to her friend. "Doesn't he know the Smoke Daimyo came to watch?"

"Maybe he's more focused on his television career," the friend replied. "That's the beauty of TV: you can always do extra takes. No one trips on TV. Or maybe he's just getting _old_ …"

…

How dare they? How _dare_ they do this, after all the hard work and effort he'd placed into becoming the greatest actor to ever join the ranks of the Land of Smoke?!

"They're talking about your little tumble out there, Muraki."

And leave it to Seiko to tell him such things. She sat on the chaise lounge in nothing but her slinky black and bronze cocktail dress. Her long cascade of sun-gold curls were tightly pulled away from her pretty face. They slid across her swan-like neck and caught some of the dress's sequins. Muraki remembered the dress; he bought it for her after their first date and she told him it was thick enough in sequins to feel like a suit of armor. "I've never seen you lose your balance before."

Muraki sat at his dresser, placing rubbing alcohol to his face to remove all the makeup: especially the lump his old man hadn't even gotten far enough in the play for the _oni_ gang to remove. And oh yes, he could hear those two-bits in the room adjacent, laughing at his expense.

They said he was getting old. To hell with them; he was only forty-eight! If any of these pampered city people had the slightest notion of what all he'd been through prior to applying for citizenship in this polluted but prosperous land, they'd be in no position to judge.

"Is it your eyes again?"

Seiko moved her legs in a way that made the dress arch up even higher to show more of her thigh. Muraki could see her red lace panties by this point and felt the same magnetic attraction for her he always did. He'd never tire of his pretty songbird. "I know you said they've been bothering you."

Of course they were. This pain was penance for trusting his life to the care of a black market surgeon.

"Maybe you should stick to what you do best with the radio dramas and leave the live acting to those trained by the new school," Seiko suggested. "Come here, darling. Let me hear that low, lovely voice of yours again." She wanted to hear him hum across her chest and between her supple thighs. His voice could go low enough to make her bones rattle deep within her body. A low enough purr across her chest could be felt by her heart and she craved it. "Tell me what I have to do to make you _sing_."

All she got out of Muraki was a shaky sigh as he carefully rubbed his eyelid. To his disgust and her horror, something oozed out. "I'm not in the mood tonight, Seiko. Sorry."

She huffed in annoyance, threw the flowers at him, and stomped off in her glittery high heels. The door slammed on her way out, causing him to cringe. But all that was secondary to the crisis at hand. Seven years of unsurpassed acting talent threatened to crumble to dust if he couldn't fix this problem.

Every shinobi war for as far back as documented history transcribed left the Land of Smoke out of everything. There was no point for conquest and war in such a wasteland. Once industry took an up-swing, irony struck. The volcanically active piece of land nobody wanted turned out to be a treasure trove of resources. Ore, precious metals, oil: a big urbanization boom struck as factories, refineries, and radio took over.

This former dead zone was now the most bustling metropolis on the continent. Naturally, several expats and defectors from all over saw a chance to start fresh as the Land of Smoke begged for more citizens and the necessary workforce required to grow and manufacture. Murahoshi Muraki (clearly not his real name) was merely one among many and radio seemed as good a place as any to begin his new life as an entertainer.

He did so well with the radio, but the next step was the television. Some of the roles were more serious than others, but the city found it hard to take him seriously as anything other than a comedian. No one could explain why he appeared to be in decline, but he knew. As he stared at his reflection and watched that noxious-looking gunk ooze from his "adopted" right eye, _he knew_.

For this transition, he needed to change again. After seven years with these marvelous eyes, they betrayed him. He could no longer copy everything he witnessed and use it to his advantage. If he waited too long, his reputation as the greatest actor in the realm would fall to pieces. Eternal chameleon that he was, appearance alone wouldn't be enough. This transition required new vision.

…

"It's a solo mission." Yes. He knew. He could read. "And the last time you participated in a B-Rank…" Utatane Koharu averted her gaze, trying her best not to think about this in much detail. The last thing she wanted to do was drag a certain Senju boy's corpse up, but a point needed to be proven. "This is a very different mission from your last B-Rank, but you wouldn't have any backup for this. Your _parents_ are fine with it?"

' _I've been a chūnin for over a year, Koharu-sama. Do I still need my parents' permission to sign on board for this?'_ Fugaku bit his tongue, keeping his thoughts and annoyances to himself. Instead, he bowed and handed over Kazusa and Sarani's written permission to the Konoha Council. He needed something to do while the twins took the exam and Buyo- _sensei_ was (surprise!) too busy.

"I really don't understand why these actors wanted to pay a B-Rank's worth for this mission," Mitokado Homura groaned, rubbing his temples with one hand. "Murahoshi Muraki isn't exactly a movie star." But he felt he knew the answer: this man wanted to guarantee the Konoha ninja sent to watch over him during filming was of the highest caliber.

"He's up and coming as one," Koharu hissed a tad defensively. "They're filming a feature in a dangerous part of the city. This isn't for an episode of _Secret Scroll_."

Fugaku cringed at the title, having been all too familiar with that series. _Secret Scroll_ was an ongoing radio drama about a young kunoichi of mixed birth trying to find her place in the world during the Warring States Era. The Fire Daimyo took her as a consort and both of the warring clans she carried lineage from tried manipulate her into charming the Daimyo in certain ways. All kinds of historic figures were thrown in there with different names, but Fugaku didn't care about the series enough to pay it much attention. All he knew was that his father, Lieutenant Naori, and Sanjo's mother liked to listen to it in the mornings and were a bit _too_ invested in some of the characters.

If this actor belonged to that audio drama, then maybe he should reconsider accepting this mission…but Sarani would never forgive him. He already signed permission in this case because he wanted an autograph. "Who does Muraki play?" Somehow, he knew he'd regret asking.

"He plays _Mikami_ ," Koharu insisted. "The Wind Daimyo's bastard son." Oh, he knew that name. _Great_ …

The Third Hokage let loose a faint chuckle. "Biwako's got a celebrity crush on that guy. If you can swing it, Fugaku, please get my wife an autograph. All joking aside, the Land of Smoke is probably the most interesting place outside of the war zone."

"I know. I did my research before I signed up for this mission, sir." Was it alright to stand up yet? Could he _go_?

…

It felt so nice to be able to eat something other than rations and whatever he could forage in the sparse wasteland surrounding this glistening and gleaming metal megalopolis. Approximately a day ago, all the woods and wilderness thinned out to become wasteland and naked stone. Kemurigouken stood out like a dark industrial dragon across the bone-white earth, routinely belching out smog and other toxins to the air so intense that the settlement itself became hazy and difficult to see.

The air carried a strong chemical smell that burned the young Chunin's throat and his bare skin carried a thin layer of grime that, while it bore no immediate stench, felt somehow more offensive than mere sweat and dirt. It itched. Wind blew in all directions as he wove his way between buildings so tall he couldn't see their top floors.

It took nearly two weeks to get here, but he had the address of his rendezvous point: a restaurant just outside a theater. He sat on one of the bar stools and opted to peruse the menu. Somehow, he didn't trust any of the seafood in this country to be fresh. Then again, was it fresh in the Land of Fire, either?

"Are you going to order anything?" the horse-faced woman behind the counter asked impatiently. "Or are you waiting for somebody?"

"He's waiting for someone," a smooth, velvety voice cooed from behind.

Fugaku turned to see a beautiful blonde in a cocktail dress with legs that seemingly went on forever and ever ( _amen_ ). She beamed, smiling at the boy. Fugaku noted her teeth were straighter and whiter than any he'd seen back home. She didn't look completely real to him. "I don't mind being a good little hostess and buying you an appetizer until Muraki gets out of his costume and makeup."

"I don't know you." There. Simple enough. " _Will_ I?" The woman chuckled in an almost melodic way. That voice. _He recognized her voice_. "Are you another radio actress?" Playfulness came back in her untamed, beckoning eyes.

"I am. I'm mostly a singer, though. Yamamoto Seiko: Muraki's fiancée. I take it you're…?"

"Uchiha Fugaku: the Konoha ninja he requested to watch him. I'm still a little unsure of these instructions." He wasn't sure if this woman truly was Muraki's fiancée, but she bought him some shumai dumplings to tide him over until the actor arrived. "Why does he need a bodyguard?"

Seiko scooted her bar stool closer. Fugaku, awkward twelve-year-old that he was, couldn't help but notice the actress's garters were now visible from all her fidgeting. If the skirt crept any higher, he'd see places on her body he had no business seeing…and Yuka would murder him if she ever found out.

"You couldn't have come at a more crucial time in his career. Muraki's trying to make the transition from radio to film, but he's almost fifty. Radio was one thing, but…" She shook her head. "There truly is no greater actor in our nation, but still that old adage about it being hard to train an old dog to perform new tricks comes to mind. He'll grasp this new medium soon enough…I hope. It's been a hurdle."

"And _this_ is why he'll need a bodyguard? Was my village the only one he sent this request to?"

"That's part of it, anyway. He can explain the rest when he gets here." Seiko purchased a kettle of jasmine tea to share. The fragrant leaves were a pleasant change from the otherwise noxious air. "He's originally from a foreign land where shinobi are commonly used. He's met enough of them by now to know who the strongest families are. Yours, for instance…"

' _At least he has the sense to ask an Uchiha to guard him,_ ' Fugaku thought with a faint echo of pride. "Where's he originally from, if you don't mind my asking?" But Seiko didn't answer. All she did was pour him more tea. She probably didn't know.

When the actor finally arrived, Fugaku instantly recognized his voice. This was very much the same guy who cursed the heavens for being so cruel and swore vengeance upon the central protagonist of _Secret Scroll_. And just like Seiko, whole parts of this man looked artificial. Human beings weren't naturally this "perfect" and the tell-tale signs of nip and tuck were prevalent on that falsely handsome face. Was this entire place a city of dolls and living mannequins?

"My…you're so _young_ ," Muraki commented. "I was told they were going to send a chūnin to watch out for me. You're–"

"They did, Murahoshi- _san_ ," Fugaku interrupted, not too impressed. "I've held this rank for over a year. I know what I'm doing. Yamamoto- _san_ tells me you were rehearsing. What's the play?" He knew a few.

"I don't think this one will be of any familiarity to you." Was that a snub? "It's a minimalist absurdist play focusing on the artificiality of human interaction." It _was_ a snub! "See, this family goes on a summer vacation toward the seashore. While there, the grandfather has a heart attack and tries to get the family's attention, but they're too busy having fun to pay him any heed. He dies and the child builds a sand castle on top of him."

"…I don't get it," he found himself murmuring as he glanced down at his backpack. Was this what city people never touched by war did in their spare time: make absurd art? Supplies were low, but at least he made it to this concrete and neon colossus. Above all else, his parents told him to pack money because everything would be pricier here. They were right. It left him wondering how much people paid to see such a pointless story.

Muraki laughed and slapped some money on the table. Fugaku didn't catch what the man ordered, but a large enough portion for three people to share was presented before the trio ten minutes later. "You aren't here to become a performer, er…sorry I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give you my name." He gave it to Seiko, though, who chose to break the ice and try to calm the atmosphere. "Murahoshi- _san_ , your mission request is a B-Rank, but it wasn't terribly clear on what you need. Did you need me to escort you to a location or–"

Not a single droplet of that slippery, greasy sauce spattered on Muraki. It all went into his uncomfortably symmetrical mouth. "We're filming a street drama in our Sixth Ward. It's very close to our city's shinobi village, if you can _call_ it that." He rolled his eyes. "This country chose to open its doors to rogue and discharged shinobi when they needed more people to complete work. No questions were asked, but a lot of these expats created gangs. The Hidden Smog isn't so much a proper village as it is an eyesore teeming with ninjutsu-toting criminals. No one trusts the foreign Kemuri ninjas, especially not those of us who have to deal with them on a regular basis."

"In short, we outsource all the good missions to foreigners," Seiko simplified before taking another portion of noodles to her lips. Her lipstick didn't smudge. "Trash Ninjas have no honor to them."

"I need a dependable bodyguard while I'm filming out there," Muraki admitted. "And I at least need a chūnin to do this because of the sheer volume of thugs we'll encounter. I've been mugged before and I'd rather not go through that experience again. So, what do you say? Think you can keep me safe?"

…

The sheer affluence of this city left a sour sensation in the pit of his stomach. Muraki's penthouse was so high in the air that Fugaku felt dizzy in the elevator. His nose threatened to bleed, but the view…god, the _view_ …

The view almost made everything worthwhile. He'd never tire of staring at it, at least. This was day three of his stay in the city and the penthouse balcony stood unsurpassed as the most impressive thing.

Outstretched below them was a seemingly endless industrial colossus: buildings, lights, and roads for as far as his eyes dared to go and beyond. People moved along, so small that they resembled ant colonies from this height. Hazy "clouds" picked up the sunlight and turned the sky colors he'd never seen before. This world felt so alien.

The adults were in the other room and Fugaku heard every moan and groan alongside the squeaking of mattress springs and occasional thump of the headboard against the wall. Muraki and Seiko made their fortunes through their voices and used them far too much. Years of vocal melodrama left nothing to the imagination anymore. At least his parents had the decency to keep it down when they felt frisky at home.

' _But maybe they don't,'_ Fugaku thought. His brain chose to betray him like this on occasion: fixating on an annoying thought that he wished would merely go away. _'Maybe they act like this when I'm not around.'_ But Kazusa and Sarani were at least close to each other age-wise; Seiko was half Muraki's age.

The man was stuck on himself, too. Posters and autographed pictures were framed and on display in every room. From here, Fugaku could see possibly every single role Murahoshi Muraki ever played. Mikami from _Secret Scroll_ was the most famous. Most of these posters were paintings rather than pictures, he noticed. Photographs became the more popular choice only over the past two years.

Seiko mentioned Muraki hailed from one of the other nations where shinobi were a regularly noticed presence. Where, though? Where on earth did this guy _come_ from?

' _Kemurigouken: the land where nobody's originally from.'_

"You are a GOD, Muraki!" Seiko squealed in orgasmic glee. Fugaku wanted to throw up. Nasty people. He wasn't sure which one he hated more by this point.

Seiko kept trying to part him from his money by pressuring him to dress like the locals. He carried shopping bags for her and grimaced every time she picked out an outfit for him to wear. She'd played with his hair without his permission a few times, too, which annoyed him to no end. Maybe _she_ was used to being a doll, but he refused to join in.

Muraki, on the other hand, felt as though it was his duty to educate the young shinobi on the fine arts in the most offensive way possible. The more he talked about the culture and progressive atmosphere of the city he'd grown to love as his own, the more he showed how much he _did_ know about how shinobi villages operated. He must have lived in one at some point in order to hate them so much.

 ** _You should stay,_** they kept insisting. He had no plans to. This place felt wrong.

' _I could be pursuing rogue ninjas and defectors, following in the footsteps of my father and Buyo-sensei.'_ Buyo insisted he had an aptitude for it. If he wanted to join a Search & Destroy team permanently, the Aburame man would support him 100%. ' _I could be delivering crucial messages to the war effort after Shinohara translates them. I could be fighting to keep everyone safe.'_

But he wasn't. He was stuck in this terrible, superficial world with a pair of narcissists.

"I LOVE YOU!" he heard Seiko roar in the other room. The entire bed creaked and thumped to the point where Fugaku wondered if the wall would crack.

' _You're both gross.'_ And yet there'd been something to Muraki's worries about the local "trash ninjas." Fugaku encountered a pair of them around noon. His patron was right; those people were little more than common criminals with a basic grasp of ninjutsu. Seiko called him her hero for the rest of the day when he caught the jackass who swiped her purse.

A genin could be out here. If not one, then two. There was no point to waste a chūnin's time with this level of bullshit. How long would he have to stay out here?

 **It's dull here. I don't care how good the money is. Never accept a mission from these people.**

There. He'd send a brief letter back to the village so they would know he was bored out of his mind. Sure, he could theoretically find anything he wished for within Kemurigouken's confines, but he was homesick.

"I'M…I'M…oh GOD, MURAKIIII…"

Screw this. He'd take a page out of Sanjo's playbook and pilfer the liquor cabinet.

…

Sometime in the evening, he fell asleep. Even though he tried his best to stay awake whenever the couple dozed off, grogginess proved to be far stealthier than any shinobi. Fugaku never saw it coming, nor did he realize he gave into it until he awoke to find Muraki looming over him. He tensed up, trying to put some space between the actor and himself. "Do you make a habit of watching people sleep? That's creepy."

"You say interesting things when you sleep," Muraki admitted. "Who's Yuka?" Fugaku chucked a sofa pillow at him and stomped off so he could take a shower.

The shower would possibly be the only thing about this city he'd miss. Jets of hot water sprayed in a dozen different directions with the perfect amount of pressure. He could set the thermostat, the intensity of the water, and even a pattern. Chances were Konoha wouldn't have access to showers like this one for another twenty to thirty years.

Come to think of it, the streetcars and subway trains were neat, too. He had no idea it was possible to go this fast over such a broad amount of space. The people, however, were insufferable and well enough reason to never come back.

' _At least we start filming today,'_ he told himself. ' _Maybe there's an end in sight after all.'_ Though he couldn't shake another uncomfortable thought from his head: if Muraki watched him sleep, what were the chances of him peeking in the shower, too?

The bathroom door was slightly cracked. He couldn't tell and that made him hurry up even faster.

Once again, Seiko picked out something for him to wear. This increasingly irked him and left him wondering what kind of parents these two would be if they ended up having a child. ' _The awful kind_ ,' he decided. ' _They'd be the sort to name their baby something ridiculous and carry it around like an accessory._ ' Gods willing, they'd never procreate or adopt.

Every little thing these two did in the privacy of their home left him unnerved. They'd whisper to each other, fool around in the bedroom, and look at him as if he were some sort of creature on display. Seiko asked about his clan too much. Muraki turned his conversations well away from his past.

But only the spineless turned down the completion of a mission, even if the mission proved to be duller than a plastic shuriken. His parents raised him better than that.

"Are you coming to the set today, Yamamoto- _san_?" Fugaku asked. The blonde shook her head, admitting she scheduled time at a recording studio today. "Music?"

"Kind of!" she admitted. "I'm singing for a new radio commercial. It's nothing fancy, but I owe a friend a favor. Here!" She held out two bentos. "The blue one's for you and the purple one's for Muraki. You'll make yourselves sick if you eat street food in the Sixth Ward."

Fugaku had to agree with her. Yesterday, he saw "chicken" that bore no resemblance to any chicken he'd ever seen before. When he asked the street vendor if it was really that, the response had been _sure; why not?_ That part of town would probably roast rat _,_ assuming they could catch enough to sell.

He graciously took the bento and thanked Seiko for being so considerate. "Anything for my fiancé's great defender!" she teased.

As appreciative as he was for the free lunch, he did _not_ appreciate the cutesy baby tone Seiko used around him. She wasn't the only offender; it happened in the village, too. Maybe people would stop when puberty finally kicked into full gear. True, he was twelve years old, but he still very much looked like a little kid. Sanjo had a pass to tease him for it. Yamamoto Seiko did not.

"We'll see you after shooting, love," Muraki called out to Seiko, blowing a kiss. She pounced, pretending to catch something she couldn't see, and squealed with delight when she "caught" it. Her legs flailed and…no. _No_. He needed to stop looking at those legs.

Too late. Their exit from the penthouse was delayed another five minutes because Fugaku needed to "excuse" himself.

…

The streetcar ride to the Sixth Ward was blessedly devoid of conversation. Muraki occasionally looked at Fugaku, but kept glancing more toward the approaching slum.

Kemurigouken's Sixth Ward was one of the oldest parts of the city, but it went unchecked and unsupervised for too long. It ran wild with crime and reminded the Fugaku of the dystopian future worlds he occasionally liked to read about in the library on his off days. Off days were fewer and far between, now so more than ever. Now his only excuse to go to the library was to check on Tohru and occasionally ask for resources for upcoming missions. Who had time for fiction anymore?

 _'This guy. He has all the time and money in the world.'_

In this light, he could once again see the disturbingly high number of subtle scars on Muraki's face. ' _Just how many surgeries has he had? Were they necessary?'_ He had no idea. Muraki struck him as a narcissistic quasi-celebrity who refused to come to terms with his own impending obsolescence. "Can I ask you something?"

The actor's dark eyes turned toward Fugaku. Behind his tinted glasses, it was hard to tell, but his eyes carried an uncomfortable level of familiarity. Everyone else was off the trolley, save for their silent conductor in the front. "Yes?"

"Promise not to be offended?"

"I'll _try_ ," Muraki responded, arms folded. "Is something the matter?"

Fugaku glanced down at his bento again and took a deep breath. He felt slightly dizzy. "I know you cover them with makeup before you shoot, but you have a _lot_ of scars."

"I wasn't aware that was a question."

"How many surgeries have you had?"

"Ah…" Muraki's response came out as a low chuckle: far lower and sincere than any superficial giggle he'd uttered since Fugaku first appeared in Kemurigouken. "Are they so obvious? To eyes as sharp as yours, I suppose they would be."

The uncomfortable feeling returned with a vengeance. Muraki's ice-cold fingers brushed up against Fugaku's wrist before he pulled the boy alongside him and off the streetcar. The congested, grimy streets of the Sixth Ward welcomed them with air cold and sharp enough to crack dry skin.

Fugaku coughed, his lungs sore from all the bad air. Two blocks away, he saw what he suspected was the Hidden Smog Village: two cluttered city-blocks consisting of sky-high and shoddily-built apartment buildings with no space between. Walled cities existed and this one gave him a bad bout of claustrophobia by initial appearances alone. The occasional pair of curious eyes peered through grime-coated windows.

"To answer your question, I've had over sixty procedures done since I moved here. Most of them were subtle enough. Eyelid lift. Rhinoplasty. Collagen. Botox. A couple of _grafts_ …" No echoes of the melodramatic ham came through with this voice.

Quite the contrary. As they walked these cluttered streets toward the movie set, Fugaku couldn't shake the feeling that he was talking to the _old_ Muraki: the man Muraki had been _before_ moving to the Land of Smoke. "Why? I'm sure you looked well enough before you–"

Why did he squeeze his wrist until it hurt? He couldn't pull his arm away!

"It's not about appearances anymore," the man murmured, yanking the boy's arm to force him to follow him in the opposite direction of the set. By now, panic set in. Fugaku hyperventilated, doing all he could to pull himself from Muraki's grasp.

He had no idea the man would be so strong or quick to match his motions. He managed to strike his face, at least, screaming that he needed to stop. Muraki's glasses hit the ground to reveal the weepy, seeping, bloodshot monstrosity underneath.

…and that monstrosity proved to be a pair of decomposing sharingan.

…

 **All around him were the bodies of his fallen comrades and those who were** ** _supposed_** **to die in all this mess. They'd been told the risk of what would happen if they stayed after the Konoha ninjas took over the fortress. They knew the gas bombs would go off, and yet they chose to stay and defend their turf like a bunch of idiots.**

 **"What the hell** ** _are_** **you?" he wondered, watching this last remaining enemy stand before him with a sword in his shaking hands. Muraki's eye caught sight of the crest on the edge of the uniform: a shuriken with a paper fan. "Everyone else died. What makes you so special?"**

 **"That's really…ngh…none of your…business," the man rasped.**

 **Muraki knew he had him then. It was only a matter of time. "You aren't immune. Sooner or later, you'll breathe in the same fumes your buddies did and no one will be here to help you."**

 **He had to pat himself with pride; his years upon years of gradual mithridatism would finally pay off. His payment, he could already see in these powerful eyes glaring him down. "Finding it hard to move yet?" Muraki called out to his opponent. "Go on, then. Kill us both before you lose your chance."**

 **But he knew how this enemy village operated. This man probably had family back home (not to mention a loving wife) and wouldn't want to be parted with them. "Come at me!" Muraki dared him again, throwing a kunai. That did it. His enemy lunged for him, sword in hand, ready to cleave him clean in two.**

 **But his opponent tripped and fell, skidding on the ground and landing atop a dead Iwa kunoichi's chest instead. "You're slowing down.** ** _Too slow_** **." Muraki continued to gloat and goad. "Another minute and you'll be paralyzed."**

 **That's when it dawned on this poor fucker that he'd been lured into a Killing Jar Technique by a man insane enough to voluntarily poison himself for years to build up a tolerance. He'd heard about these death traps before (and knew it wasn't the first time the Hidden Stone used such a technique), but he never expected…not after the First Great Shinobi War–**

 **He coughed, feeling something acidic and hot across his windpipe. The Konoha shinobi's body turned numb as he tried to stagger toward his enemy one last time. He fell again, this time unable to get up. His whole body felt like dead weight: too heavy to move beyond a few feeble motions.**

 **"Please…" he groaned. "My brother's about to have a little girl. I want to see that. I want to see my niece…" A howl of pain left his mouth as the Iwa jōnin stomped on his hand and squatted down to look him over, face to face: close enough that they could practically** ** _kiss_** **.**

 **"That's too bad," Muraki whispered, leaning in. "I saw how well you could copy the techniques my fallen comrades tried to use on you." He pulled out a kunai and lightly traced an eyelid. "You're an Uchiha, aren't you?" The man didn't answer, but he was clearly terrified. "Your eyes are too valuable for me to permit you to see anything else ever again."**

…

Radio was the safest place to begin as he paid behind the scenes for gradual changes to his face: procedure upon procedure left him subtly changing until the man in the Bingo Books bore only a passing resemblance to the charming lady-killer gracing the glossy covers of magazines. The photographers airbrushed every nip and tuck, wanting to do his artificial handsomeness justice.

Undercover work was one thing. Voice-acting for radio programs encouraged him to go over the top and ham it up to his heart's content. He sang for them, used his voice to woo and charm anyone tuning into that particular frequency…but radio dramas had been on the decline for the past couple of years. Serial daytime television series were the new cash cow for this nation: their greatest entertainment export.

And in order to study this new school of acting and continue to win the hearts of these eternally fickle people, he'd need to go into this with new vision. The frightened, bewildered scarlet eyes staring back at him were precisely what he needed.

"Those aren't…" Fugaku stammered. "Those aren't your eyes…"

"So astute." Muraki grinned and moved closer, reaching for the switchblade in his pocket. He used to be able to perform genjutsu with these eyes: genjutsu so dreadful that people ran away in terror. However, this wouldn't do him much good this time, considering a pair of fresh eyes stared back at him. "I love how observant you are."

This man was a shinobi. He never needed protection. All of this had been little more than a ruse to get an Uchiha separated from the village far enough where no one would notice his absence. Fugaku's heart wanted to run away from his body and get as far away from Murahoshi Muraki as humanly possible, but his feet were frozen in place. "Who _were_ you!?"

Muraki had him locked in place, unable to get away. The south wall for the Hidden Smog Village pushed against Fugaku's back. He felt the unwelcome warmth of an improperly installed furnace on his skin with only a barrier of thin metal and the fabric of his shirt to save him. It was insufficient; the scorching heat left him feeling as though this man pushed his back to hot coals. He yowled in pain.

More eyes peeked from the massive wall. A porthole window opened and a curious child poked his head out to watch. At least, he did. Someone yanked the little boy back in.

"Ssssssssh," Muraki whispered. "There's no point in disturbing the trash ninjas. They can't help you." His lips brushed against the boy's ear as he whispered the next part. "Let's see my medic, shall we? I can't wait to see the world from _your_ perspective."

All Fugaku could think about were those oozing, awful eyes staring back at him. They appeared to be weeping, as if whatever remained of the man or woman Muraki murdered was aware that its final resting place would be in this lunatic's skull. Who did those eyes originally belong to?

"Don't touch me!" Fugaku shrieked when another burst of heat tortured his back. He tried his best not to touch the metal, but Muraki had him locked. The most he could do was scream his sore lungs out. "I'll kill you!" But how? His hands were pinned.

"What kind of a shinobi kills the man who paid for his mission?" Muraki jeered. "I paid for you. Until this mission's over, I fucking _own_ you. I can do whatever I damn well please." He leaned in again, that low laugh making the boy's bones shake. His lips parted so he could kiss the boy's right eyelid. "Stupid boy. They really should have sent a man to–"

To what? Fugaku never found out, just as he'd never discover how painful having his eyes gouged out and implanted into a psychopath would feel.

For the full duration of his time in this city, everyone repeatedly told him the local shinobi were a ragtag band of half-rate ninjas with a lingering vendetta against the rest of the city for outsourcing the best jobs. And yet it was a shinobi of the Hidden Smog who threw a shuriken at Muraki and hit him in the back.

That assault was enough to give Fugaku a chance get away and run like a coward. At least, that was what he _should_ have done. His pride made it impossible to leave. In the split second where Muraki released his grip on him, Fugaku rapidly wove the hand signs for a close range _Gōkakyū no Jutsu._

…

"I'm not sure how I feel about our son taking an extended mission in another country. He's only eleven." Mikoto poked at her fruit. Sasuke wasn't up yet, but she couldn't sleep. Neither could Fugaku, apparently. "You told me about your first solo mission abroad. That story gave me nightmares."

The first time Mikoto heard about it, she'd been fifteen and going on her first solo mission without her teammates. A rogue Iwagakure jōnin had apparently reinvented himself as an actor in the Land of Smoke and used her uncle's sharingan to further his career. He nearly assaulted Fugaku, too.

She could picture it all in her head: her husband, only twelve years old at the time, held in place by a man nearly twice his size and four times his age. He had to be scared half out of his mind. Right after he came home from that mission, she remembered how jumpy he'd been. Even a sudden door slam was enough to put him on edge.

"You told me you weren't even sure if you killed that man. This mission's in Kemurigouken. I don't want Itachi going." Not if there was a chance _that thing_ was still alive.

"Itachi's stronger than I was," Fugaku countered, but he wouldn't put up as much of a fight with this one as Mikoto expected. He knew from experience nothing world-shattering ever took place in that city. "But perhaps I should focus on placing him in another location. We haven't settled the score with Iwagakure."

" _No_ ," Mikoto snapped. "Just… _don't_. Not this time. Give him more time."


	41. Birthright

"I'm proud of you, Hizashi." Fugaku hadn't been feeling terribly social lately, not after the disaster of a mission he'd taken by himself in the Land of Smoke. Even when the twins asked to train with him in order to be ready for the one-on-one combat portion of the exam, he'd declined.

At least he managed to keep his promise to them by watching their fights. He even sat alongside Buyo- _sensei_ and their parents. It meant he knew which twin passed and which one didn't. Fugaku only congratulated the victor.

' _He got lucky,_ ' the elder twin mentally decided. Hizashi ended up fighting a foreign kunoichi from Koyamagakure. The Akane Clan had a tactile and olfactory advantage due to the pheromonal nature of their techniques, but their bodies couldn't have been more fragile had their bones been made of glass. It only took two minutes for Hizashi to defeat Chigusa.

And while on the topic of glass bones, Hiashi overestimated the sturdiness of his half-healed broken leg. His opponent was a skilled puppeteer from Sunagakure who managed to come at him with two killer dolls at the same time. One of them left a kick sturdy and blunt enough to crack the tender bone and make it re-splinter. Even right now, he had to use a crutch just to keep up with Buyo- _sensei_ , Fugaku, and his own brother.

"That fight was incredible!" Great. He could hear all the enthusiasm in Fugaku's voice and all of it was for Hizashi. _Always_ Hizashi.

His younger brother had no idea, but Hiashi kept a mental tally of how many times their teammate invited Hizashi over as opposed to the both of them. He'd never been there without his brother. Hizashi, on the other hand, had slept over at the Uchiha residence a grand total of _twenty-two_ times since Team Buyo became complete.

Everyone loved him more, which only made Hiashi that much more insufferable in his envy. Some days, he wished they could swap places. Then Hizashi could see for himself how lonely it was at the top, having to swallow generation upon generation of expectations on what it meant to lead the prestigious Hyūga Clan. Who needed freedom when everyone loved you?

"When you receive your flak jacket, tell me," Fugaku begged. "I want to be there."

Hizashi smiled graciously at the sentiment and walked a little closer to the Uchiha boy. They'd become so close and Hiashi tried his best not to scowl. Instinctively, he found himself moving nearer to Buyo…but only _so_ close, and only if he pretended his sensei didn't have a parasitic hive festering inside him.

' _Do you even like me? I'm sure you don't.'_

If Fugaku _did_ like him, then Hiashi would have eaten dinner at his house by now. He would have spent the night or agreed to train with him in private. And it wouldn't work if he invited Fugaku over to their home. He'd immediately be Hizashi's guest and have to be shared.

"I don't want to do anything fancy, but I'd love to celebrate," Hizashi confessed. Fugaku and Buyo would see it as Hizashi wanting to receive praise for his recent success.

Hiashi knew him well enough to know what was really going on. Hizashi didn't have the nerve to say it to others anymore, but this was his own way of twisting the metaphorical knife. **_I am the center of attention today_** , it meant. **_And today, I matter more than you do._**

"You've earned it," Buyo insisted, much to Hiashi's annoyance. "Dinner, perhaps? On your sensei's dime?"

"We'll go anywhere you want. Shinohara swears by Watanabe Sushi, but–"

"Sukiyaki," Hizashi decided without hesitation. Another twist of the knife. He'd bragged about having it at the Uchiha home the first time Fugaku invited him over. "Provided no one has any objections to that…?" Those eyes were so hopeful, focused on his twin.

Time to let him down as only Hyūga Hiashi could. He'd done this a thousand times before and would do it ten thousand times more. "I'm not sure if I can handle that much food," he fibbed. "I'm not feeling well and my leg hurts. Can we–"

A sigh, an aversion to look at Hiashi directly; he won.

He'd hide his smile, but already noted the hope leaving his brother's eyes. Were they a few years younger, Hizashi would cry over something like this. He'd certainly cried the time Hiashi cut his ponytail off for tripping him at a ceremony. Now he was too old and proud to do such things in front of an audience.

Fugaku's reaction didn't go unnoticed, either. Hiashi spotted his older teammate's dark eyes narrowing on him for a split second before he pulled Hizashi aside to whisper something. Hizashi nodded in agreement and politely shook hands with his teammate. "Some other time, then?"

"…yeah. Some other time. See you later." As Fugaku and Buyo departed, Hiashi noted the hurt look on his brother's face still had yet to wear off. "You wanted to go home? _Fine_. Let's go home."

Still feigning innocence and a bit of imaginary nausea, Hiashi leaned on Hizashi a bit, feeling how tense he was. "What did I do to deserve such a caring brother?"

Hizashi's eyes narrowed into judgmental, seething slits. "Absolutely nothing."

…

 **"Faster!** ** _Faster_** **! For heaven's sake, son, you're my heir. Can't you do** ** _anything_** **right!?"**

 **They'd been going at this for nearly four hours. The eight-year-old's heart thumped hard enough in his chest to hurt his lungs, but that was nothing compared to the aches and pains from where his father yet again succeeded in pressing his tenketsu.**

 **Hiashi coughed, afraid that it might be blood rather than phlegm if this kept up, but he'd master this technique or die trying. "Again," he demanded, though his legs were already turning into jelly.**

 **Hyūga Taiyō stared at his son with such disappointment in his eyes that the boy wondered if he'd look any more let down had he brought home a whole report card of failing grades. "There's no point. You're embarrassing yourself."**

 **'** ** _I am not! Let's keep doing this until I get it right!'_** **Hiashi made the proper stance, assuming he'd last more than a mere twenty seconds, but his body quit on him halfway through his attack. He collapsed in a heap before his father, too sore to get up.**

 **"Pathetic."**

 **No. Please, not that. Didn't he understand how difficult this jutsu was? One did not simply watch the stance** ** _once_** **and get it right on the first try. It was impossible!**

 **"Your mother was right. This was a waste of my time."**

 **"No! Wait!" Hiashi reached for the edge of his father's robe, grabbing as tightly as he could. Any tighter and he'd tear the fabric. "Please…I can keep going!"**

 **"That's a lie and we both know it. It's been four hours; you won't make any further progress today. Now let go of me." Because only** ** _babies_** **clung to their parents and pitched fits when they didn't get their way. "This behavior is unbecoming for a future leader."**

 **Hiashi refused to obey. His fingers remained twisted in the fabric with a vice-like grip. He'd find the strength within himself if it meant his father wouldn't leave. He'd ditch Academy. He'd stay up all night. He wouldn't eat or sleep if it meant Taiyō could devote the time to help him master the Gentle Fist. All he needed was a little more** ** _time_** **. Why was that so hard to understand?**

 **Finally, Taiyō freed his leg and made his way out of the dojo and toward the center of the estate. "Some days…" Hiashi heard him murmur under his breath. "Some days I wonder if I marked the wrong child."**

…

Did he, though? Hiashi wondered about that sometimes.

That nagging dread came out more frequently now that they were shinobi. Hizashi completed more missions than he did. Now he was a solid rank ahead of him. Their parents would congratulate Hizashi for becoming a chūnin, but would merely expect it of Hiashi. Home would be a sea of disappointment, but at least he'd be able to hide in his room and sulk.

The whole walk back to the Hyūga district, Hiashi could tell his twin wanted to slap him. ' _Go on_ , _Hizashi. I dare you._ ' But he didn't. Hizashi kept buttoning his bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from quivering. Only spoiled little brats cried in public and he was no such thing. They were both raised better than that.

"You have something you want to say." Hiashi gave his twin's shoulder a squeeze. "It's just the two of us now. You can speak freely with me, Hizashi." Hizashi eyed him warily. "What's wrong?"

"Like you don't already know," Hizashi hissed, increasing his distance from his brother. "You always do this! It's like you can't stand the thought of seeing me happy or excited over something unless you're a part of it, too. Either I have to share with you or I get nothing at all.

"And I bet you're going to ask me what Fugaku whispered in my ear. I don't mind telling you. He told me to _go lick His Royal Highness's wounds for a while_ because you apparently need to be coddled. I can have dinner with him some other time, just the two of us. _Without you_."

"Hizashi, I'm _sick_."

"No, you're not. Stop lying."

And Hizashi was right. Maybe Hiashi felt a tinge of guilt over this, but not much. ' _If I can't take joy in something, why should you?'_

"Aren't you proud of me?"

"I–"

…

 **They loved Hizashi more.**

 **Of course Hizashi denied it, but Hiashi knew and couldn't be convinced otherwise. Their mother permitted her younger son to go to sleepovers without his brother. She'd slip him sweets and toys sometimes, telling him they were their little secret…which, of course, he then proceeded to bring up the next time he and Hiashi disagreed on something.**

 **Hizashi knew that if he came home upset or brokenhearted, Hikari's heart and mind were always open to him. He spent the night in her room sometimes, staying up with her until the crack of dawn. Hiashi could barely get more than a sentence or two out of her at a time. That and she'd stare at him as if she were on the verge of tears before averting her gaze. Hikari loved him too, but she had an obvious favorite.**

 **They were only ten years old. It would take him another three years before he realized his mother favored Hizashi out of pity. Had Hizashi not been a twin, he would have merely been Hiashi's younger brother in the Main Family. The line of succession could be called into question with twins. One of them had to be demoted and distinguished as such.**

 **It was guilt, pure and simple. And she felt she may as well spoil her younger son now because he had nothing but a hard life ahead of him.**

 **The boys shared a bath that night. Every time they did that, Hiashi wanted to scan his brother over to pick out any differences between the two of them other than the curse mark. The girls in the class favored Hizashi more. More of the boys invited Hizashi over to play. And for the life of him, Hiashi could never find anything other than the mark.**

 **"You're usually more talkative," Hizashi pointed out as he washed Hiashi's hair. "Is something wrong?" That slight, tense hesitation: Hiashi had such a keen ear for it. By now, he was convinced his ears were as sharp to tones as an auditory equivalent of a byakugan.**

 **Hiashi stayed perfectly still, feeling a chill across his bare shoulders. "I think** ** _okaa-san_** **loves you more than me," he admitted. Such things were his sorest, most sensitive point. He knew what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear Hizashi be a good brother and tell him he was being ridiculous, that there was no way she'd–**

 **"** ** _Someone_** **should, don't you think?"**

 **His blood felt like ice as soon as he heard it. '** ** _So it's true. I'm not paranoid. It's true.'_**

 **"I think everyone else loves you more, though." Tone again. Hizashi wasn't being sincere. "At least let me have** ** _okaa-san's_** **love."**

 **But he couldn't. Hiashi was too jealous. "She's my mother, too," he growled. "You have no right. You don't have a right to** ** _anything_** **. You** ** _know_** **that."**

 **Hizashi's mouth kept opening, but no words came out. He knew he screwed up. Hiashi grabbed that jaw, shutting it with one hand, and placed his other hand to his brother's branded brow.**

 **It didn't matter how hot the water was. Hizashi shivered, eyes wide open in terror as his brother stroked the mark. Frightened huffs of air left his mouth, but nothing else came with it. He tried moving to the other side of the bathtub, but he knew better than to try to get out.**

 **Hiashi had no intentions of activating it, but he wasn't above reminding Hizashi he could do so at any time. He'd known how to activate it for five years and tested it out for the first time over something stupid and petty he'd long since forgotten.**

 **He did, however, recall how horrified his mother had been. She screamed and rushed over to wrap her arms around her younger son, pulling him away. She then refused to speak to Hiashi or look him in the eye for a month.**

 **"Please…" Hizashi finally squeaked. "Don't…you don't know how much it hurts…"**

 **But it couldn't hurt anywhere near as much as knowing your own mother favored your brother more, could it? "We share everything. You understand? You don't get to have anything to yourself. You share** ** _everything_** **with me."**

…

At the time, Hizashi agreed. Now here they were, nearly twelve years old, and things had changed so much. They had a teammate who (like their mother) played favorites despite swearing when their team was new that he wouldn't do that. Fugaku lied. Hizashi lied all the time.

"Did it ever occur to you that the reason people don't like you is your shitty personality?" That wasn't a lie, though. Hizashi apparently felt that way in the most angered and sincere means possible. "Buyo- _sensei_ wanted to do something nice for the whole team, Hiashi. _Including_ you."

Aburame Buyo was possibly the only person in their lives who _did_ treat them as equals. This simultaneously made Hiashi love and hate him. Sure, he spent more time with Fugaku than he did with the twins, but Hiashi understood why. Fugaku's father and Buyo-sensei were teammates and lifelong friends. That wasn't anything he'd hold against Fugaku.

It just hurt inside, knowing he tried as hard as he could to befriend that boy and Fugaku still preferred Hizashi. All the kids Fugaku introduced them to right before the exam, too! It felt like the only one who showed a preference for him was Uchiha Kaede, but she creeped him out. He didn't want to associate with somebody like that.

' _What does this say about me? Am I really so insufferable?'_ Perhaps so, but that didn't quell the rage building in his chest as Hizashi vented out his frustration.

"All I wanted was to grab a bite to eat with my friend, my sensei, and you and once…just _once_ …be the center of attention. We're a _team_ , aren't we? Why couldn't you just be happy that I passed?!"

But that wasn't the point. It would be something else in Hiashi's life that would revolve around his brother.

' _You're the center of attention more than you realize, idiot.'_

Hizashi would prove by merit, charm, and skill alone to be better than him and that was something Hiashi couldn't allow. Not as a future clan head, and _especially_ not as a member of the Main Family.

As much as it pained him at times to hurt his brother, as _wrong_ as it used to feel, he knew their stations in life had nothing to do with merit but everything to do with birth order. By this one trivial thing, he was better and always would be. He needed to believe that, considering he now stood alone as the one and only genin on Team Buyo. Uchiha Yuka passed. So did Shimura Mikuro. It was enough to leave him outraged.

"I don't need to do anything for you, Hizashi. You presume too much. Take me home. _Now_."

…

Even as adults, he continued to covet every little thing that belonged solely to Hizashi. Hizashi had a lovelier wife: a proud beauty who treated him like royalty. Hiashi's own wife was a quiet, meek thing more interested in motherhood than her marital duties. If he rolled over in bed and nudged his wife, she'd ask him if they were going to try for a baby.

Couldn't he have a few years of pleasure first? _Especially_ when he'd watched in secret a few times how much delight his brother had in _his_ marriage?

He wanted to share, of course. Every nice thing in Hizashi's life had to belong to him, too. The problem was that woman refused to go anywhere near him unless he ordered her to do so…and considering he wanted her to like him, he hadn't done such things.

He'd watch Hizashi sometimes and see how deeply in love he appeared to be. It made his blood boil. The longer it went on, the more he wanted to see and hear without them knowing. Sick ideas played through his head, especially on the nights where his own wife disappointed him.

He considered having Hizashi sterilized so there would be no further question of inheritance or paternity between their children. All would then be Hiashi's and all would have a valid claim. That and the very thought of his younger brother producing superior children kept him up some nights in dread.

 **Some days I wonder if I marked the wrong child.**

A better grandchild would prove his father was right. If he ended that line and put an end to such a great shame on the Main Family, it could be forgiven…provided the village never found out.

But there were other ideas, too. Sometimes he fancied he would impersonate Hizashi, whisper sweet words to that pretty wife of his, and have the last laugh if she conceived a bastard and raised the poor thing in beautiful ignorance. But such behavior was depraved, vile, and unbecoming of a leader.

His fingernails dug into the wood paneling with every sigh and moan he heard. He _knew_ what he wanted more than anything else. In his own way, he loved his twin. Truly, he did. But envy, insecurity, and jealousy reigned supreme in Hyūga Hiashi's dark world.

Even if Taiyō _did_ mark the wrong child, it was too late to change anything. The mark couldn't be taken away. And if that lovely couple _did_ end up producing a child better than any heir Hiashi produced, he'd still come out triumphant and that brat would still have a mark.

' _Enjoy yourself,'_ he thought as he ventured back toward his own quarters. ' _It isn't going to last.'_

…

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

The end of _Birthright_ marks the transition toward the next phase of the _Vines_ series. A two-year time skip is about to take place, setting up for Fugaku, Hiashi, and Hizashi's first multi-part story arc: _Red Sun Festival_. This arc will be a mission abroad in the Village Hidden in the Knolls, giving us more insight into not only how the Akane Clan operates, but also sets up one of the major recurring villains of the series. I hope you'll be every bit as excited to read it as I am to remaster and repost it.

However, prior to the release of _Red Sun Festival_ , you will be treated to a prequel arc ( _Kazusa Densetsu_ ) which focuses on how Uchiha Kazusa came to power as clan head, as well as how Senju Tobirama came to power as Nidaime Hokage. Several canon characters (Sarutobi Hiruzen, Shimura Danzō, Uzumaki Mito, Uchiha Setsuna, etc.) as well as several other _Vines_ characters you've met in Part 1 (Yamanaka Osamu immediately comes to mind) will appear in this story.

Due to its length and ability to operate as a standalone story, I have opted to give _Kazusa Densetsu_ its own status as a separate story, which you can find **here**. Once its installations are all posted, we'll be diving into a couple of one-shots, and then return to the _Red Sun Festival_ arc in this story.


	42. Steadfast

"If you stare at the water long enough, another face will stare back at you." Yuka came out here with her sometimes, if only to goad the nine-year-old into believing all kinds of silly things. Mikoto was wary, but gullible. "And I'm not talking about your reflection, _Mi-chan_. I'm talking about the little boy who drowned in the lake when our parents were kids."

She heard the story from Yuka before, among others. Almost every kid in the clan knew this story. Back when the village was a new and wondrous place, a little Uchiha boy from one of the poorer families went out to the lake unsupervised. He somehow ended up in the water and drowned, only for his big brother to find him floating hours later.

The story of Uchiha Yasashī transformed over the years. He'd started as a precautionary tale told by parents and older siblings to small children to convince them to take somebody with them around large bodies of water. Now he was little more than a ghost story the kids told each other for a cheap thrill.

Some believed in Yasashī. Some didn't. Mikoto knew that she'd caught several kids wandering out here over the years to leave offerings.

Kaede brought mochi as an offering sometimes, leaving it on the dock as if daring Yasashī's ghost to jump out and greet her.

Yuka regularly swam out here unsupervised and tried to look for "artifacts" in the water. She claimed she found a sandal once, but Mikoto was ready to call bullshit and accuse her cousin of trying to scare her.

"Thanks for training with me today." Mikoto knew when to be polite and courteous. Yuka was everything she hoped to be when she became a proud kunoichi someday, too. "Can we do more tomorrow? I wanna work on my kunai grouping."

Yuka thought about it, running her fingers through her jaw-length hair. She'd cut it into a bob recently, complete with a full set of bangs. Her boyfriend, the heir apparent, seemed to like it well enough. "Maybe," she decided, coating her lips with another layer of plum lipstick. The color was so true to its name that Mikoto half expected her cousin's gums, tongue, and inside of her lips to be the same fleshy orange hue as the fruit. "It depends on my schedule. Police Cadets work long hours, you know." At least she had a guarantee 95% of her missions would keep her in the village. "But so do Academy students."

"Eh?"

All Yuka had to do was smirk and turn her head eastward to explain. Slowly approaching was a grim-looking man with very strong, clearly visible creases under his tired eyes. His frown lines were even more pronounced. The instant Mikoto saw what the man carried in his hands, she knew why her father came out to collect her. Her report card came in.

"Crap," she grumbled under her breath, only for Yuka to lightly elbow her in the ribs. She could talk in such ways with her cousin present, but not her father…and _definitely_ not her mother. "Five more minutes?" she asked, only for that stern expression to turn harsher. "…okay. Bye, Yuka- _onee_. Tell me when you have time to train me again."

But she could already tell. She'd done something to land her in a heap of trouble.

…

80% wasn't the end of the world. The past semester was a difficult one and the _best_ student in the class (Aburame Shibi) only managed to come out of it with a 92%. ' _I can't be the best at everything. What are you even expecting?'_ But she knew the answer: perfection. They wanted _perfection_.

To her left, her mother picked at her cuticles using her fingernails when she wasn't prepping dinner. She'd use a sharp one to saw off the skin and put it in her mouth as a nervous tic. _Gross_.

Mikoto used to do the same thing until she learned in kunoichi preschool how gross nail-biting, thumb-sucking, and other finger-to-mouth habits could be. Hanako- _sensei_ made her cut an apple in two and told her to lick only one half. A few days later, Mikoto saw the germ jungle she made on the exposed fruit. She swore off putting her fingers in her mouth forever.

To her right, her father continued to stare in silence, holding out the report card for her to analyze the way he analyzed the corpses on his autopsy table at work. Uchiha Fumio wanted to be a medical ninja in his youth. Right before Mikoto was born, he'd accepted a position as the KMPF medical examiner.

Sometimes it unnerved her how he'd stare and try to pick things apart with his theories and suspicions. People weren't corpses…yet.

"Please tell me you understand why these grades are unacceptable." Fumio's stone face remained, dark eyes penetrating without ever having to flash a red from the sharingan.

"No. I tried my best," Mikoto murmured defensively, averting her gaze. She knew her father would see that as a telltale sign of dishonesty, but he scared her when he acted like this. "Yuka- _onee_ was even helping me work on my grouping before you–"

Her father cut her off with a sharp, staccato laugh: one quick _ha_ with no humor in it. He made an L with his left hand; placing his thumb to his cheekbone and resting his furrowed brow against his longer fingers. "You're lying. This is _not_ your best." The girl opened her mouth, but Fumio provided no time for her to speak. "I'm sure you're wondering why I don't believe you."

"I _am_ because I'm telling the _truth_!" Mikoto felt the sting of tears in her eyes and the heated embarrassment across her face. The redness stretched even to her ears. She felt ashamed, but all the while wondered why her father wouldn't take her at her word.

Sometimes her mother jumped to her defense. One time, Fumio accused Mikoto of intentionally hiding a sign-up form for an interim cryptography course because he assumed she didn't want to do it. It didn't matter how many times she swore she never got the form; he didn't believe her.

She'd been so scared when he raised his voice that she hid in her mother's closet for two hours. When Shizuko finally came home, she'd been able to explain Mikoto didn't have the grades to qualify, so she never received the form. Later, she'd told Mikoto that Fumio felt bad for losing his temper, but the man never apologized. He simply acted awkward around her for a couple of days and then acted like the whole ordeal never happened.

This time, Shizuko wasn't her daughter's ally. She was her husband's. "You were supposed to complete a report for village history this term," Shizuko murmured from the kitchen. She poked at her bamboo steamer and never turned her gaze in the girl's direction. "You never turned it in."

The confusion on the girl's face said it all; she'd completely forgotten. "Reports and paperwork are a key component of being an effective shinobi, Mikoto. Someone in every team may be required to submit a summation if it's a C rank or higher."

But all Mikoto did was sit in her seat, listening in absolute silence as her parents took turns expressing their disappointment in her lack of commitment. They didn't let up, nor did "I forgot" make matters any easier.

"Maybe sensei will let me submit it late if I tell him I forgot," Mikoto offered, fidgeting in her seat despite how many times her mother reminded her that ladies weren't supposed to do that. _Yuka_ certainly didn't fidget in _her_ house. "I can write it. Maybe I can get partial–"

Fumio shook his head. "That's not how the real world works. You didn't meet your deadline. You _failed_ and this report card is final." Mikoto wanted to argue with him and point out that 80% wasn't _bad_ , but she knew better. It wasn't _great_ , either. "You won't get do-overs on missions and if you forget _those_ …?"

She wanted him to stop, but she saw it in his face: Fumio wasn't anywhere remotely close to finished. Once that tightly-strung man got this wound up, Fumio _couldn't_ stop until everyone else fell into shamed silence. It didn't matter how many times Mikoto heard from her mother and older brother that he hadn't always been that way, that something had changed him.

For as far back as she could remember; her father was the very embodiment of cold, bitter perfectionism. He wouldn't be _Fumio_ otherwise.

"Imagine you make it onto a team someday, like your brother," Fumio supposed aloud. Gods. She didn't want Yori to come home in time to hear any of this. He'd get too much satisfaction out of seeing his baby sister in the hot seat with dear old dad.

"And imagine you're promoted past genin status, thereby graduating beyond menial missions." Mikoto didn't dare stop him to ask what _menial_ meant. "In order to prepare, you volunteered to research your enemy, gather information, and provide a report to help the team succeed. That way, they'll know what to expect when your group goes abroad."

' _But it was a_ _ **history**_ _report_ ,' she wanted to remind him. It wasn't the same thing. The words almost left her until she saw the warning in Shizuko's eyes. _Stay quiet_ , those eyes told her. _Let your father talk_.

"But you do what you always do, Mikoto. You _forget._ " Fumio hands trembled with rage. "What do you suppose happens the moment you and your team realize _you forgot to do the report_? You'll be caught completely off guard when you're ambushed. You or your comrades could die from such a mistake. The enemy might even decide to take you alive, just because you're an Uchiha, _rip your eyes out,_ and sell what's left to–"

"Fumio, stop! She's only nine! It's just a–"

"I know, Shizuko! I KNOW!" Fumio slammed his hand on the table with enough force to knock a cup over. Steaming hot tea spilled onto the mat. "It's just a school report _now_. I'd rather it be _that_ than someplace where it's actually going to matter, but–"

"Ooooooh!" Mikoto recognized her brother's voice long before she saw him. "Someone's in _trouble_! What did you do this time!?"

She threw up from sheer nerves.

…

By the time Shizuko announced to the family that dinner was ready, Mikoto still couldn't bring herself to eat. Yori, voracious adolescent boy that he was, "graciously" offered to take her food as a second serving for himself.

"Yori, no," Shizuko sighed when Mikoto handed over her rice bowl. "Just because you're a genin now doesn't give you an excuse to use bad table manners at home. That's your sister's food. She's a growing girl."

But Mikoto didn't want to eat. Not with her father's words ringing through her head. Real life wouldn't give her a chance to make up assignments or catch up on lost time. If she forgot, then Fumio was right. She'd be a bad shinobi and get somebody killed.

After dinner, Yori wandered off to demonstrate for his father a neat new jutsu the clan head's son taught him. "Fugaku- _senpai's_ a bit of a stick in the mud sometimes," she heard Yori inform their father, "but I get why. If I had someone like Kazusa- _taichou_ for a mother, I would be too!"

And speaking of mothers, Mikoto couldn't stop staring at hers accusingly as she helped her wash dishes. ' _You didn't defend me or make much effort to tell him to stop.'_ She also noted that Shizuko kept her eyes on the dishes and seemed to scrub them a little too forcefully. Her hands looked pink from the too-hot water and Shizuko's cuticles threatened to crack from all the abuse they endured.

"Don't be mad at him," Shizuko uttered in a small voice, but she saw her daughter's eyes were filled with enraged tears. "Your father didn't handle this as well as he should have, but those words came out of concern. He wants you to do your very best and grow up to be responsible. I hope you understand that."

' _Oh, I_ _ **understand**_ _, alright. I understand that you'll never stand up for me once he starts. I_ _ **understand**_ _that you're scared of him, too.'_ The girl's eyes narrowed darkly, every bit as piercing and invasive as her father's. "I hate him, _kaa-san._ "

"You're angry with him. That's not the–"

"I know what I said." Mikoto wouldn't say it again, but she meant it. And right now, she was fairly confident she hated her mother, too.

…

Twenty minutes ago, she heard her parents talking in rushed and flustered words. Through the paper-thin walls, she saw her father's silhouette making grandiose gestures as he talked, just like the clan head sometimes did once something upset her. Shizuko had her head bowed in that crestfallen way she'd mastered and kept stroking Fumio's back. By the end of the conversation, Fumio had his head on his wife's lap and Shizuko sometimes leaned down to kiss his ear when she grew tired of stroking his black hair.

Mikoto couldn't make out what Fumio and Shizuko were talking about, nor did she care to find out. Yori knew she planned to run away. He wouldn't say anything about it, considering Mikoto had dirt on him. Why, he was such a good big brother that he even helped her pack a bag!

In retrospect, an umbrella would have been a smart addition. She'd only made it as far as Yashiro's house before the bottom of the sky ripped open and released heavy rain. It soaked into the cotton of her shirt and before too long, she felt damp and cold.

Only a few neighbors were still out and about. She'd intentionally chosen a time where most people would be at home with their families. Yashiro was lucky in that regard. He didn't have a family anymore.

Sanjo was also lucky; his family worked so hard that he rarely saw them.

But if Mikoto could choose, she'd want Yuka's parents. All she ever saw in her aunt and uncle was fierce pride for their daughter. Yuka paved her own way and decided what she wanted to do. Her parents were so encouraging, so _caring_ , so in love with each other and…

Fumio had a tendency to shake when he became angry. The instant Mikoto realized she shook, too; it only angered her further. She didn't want to believe there was any part of Fumio running through her blood. Shizuko could excuse him all she wanted, but he wasn't anyone Mikoto wanted to see again. And yet she could hear his voice in her head, knowing full well what he'd say if he were here.

 _So you decided to run away rather than face your responsibilities. Very well. Where do you plan to go? Where will you get food, clothing, and shelter? How will you support yourself? Did you even leave with a plan or did you do this on a whim? Foolish girl._ _ **Stupid**_ _girl._

"Mi- _chan_?"

"I'm running away!" she informed the voice, holding her head high. Hopefully whoever-it-was would mistake her tears for more rain. "Don't you dare try to stop me or I'll stab you in the leg!" She turned around to see who addressed her in the first place.

' _Oh. It's you. I didn't think you'd be out late, too...'_ Mikoto felt embarrassed as soon as she realized the clan's heir caught her acting so petty.

"I didn't really have a plan," she confessed. "I'm just so _mad_ right now that I…" She hissed in a shaky breath, trying to make the tremors stop. "Have you ever tried to run away?"

Fugaku didn't know terribly much about Fumio and his family. Sometimes he treated Yori like a _kohai_ and sometimes he'd humor Mikoto despite being five years her senior. He'd play with her sometimes when they were younger. She even remembered him occasionally walking her home from Academy, but that was two years ago and around the time his friend died.

At some point, he'd stopped coming around. After one of his teammates made _chūnin_ , too, he took longer and longer missions and seemed too busy to approach. But why would he come back? "Because…because if your family is like… _mine…_ then…"

"I never tried it," Fugaku confessed. "My parents already lost one son. There's no part of me that wants to make them experience that again." He had an umbrella, though, and leaned closer so the little girl could share with him. He felt _warm_. "I'm sorry you had a bad day, Mikoto."

It was the _worst_ , but somehow she felt a little better because somebody cared. Mikoto did more than merely walk under the umbrella with him. Out of instinct, she found herself hugging the older boy's arm the same way she sometimes did with her brother when Yori was being nice. "You're gonna try to walk me home, aren't you? I told you. I'm–"

"Running away. I know." Fugaku rolled his eyes, careful to make sure Mikoto didn't see him do that. "I think you'll get your point across if you simply stay somewhere else overnight and make your parents squirm a little." And there it was: an impish smile. "That's _really_ what you want, isn't it?"

…

"I stayed out too late."

She glanced up to see her second child stumble back inside. Sasuke's tiny body cried out its abuses through scrapes and cuts. Burns lingered near his blistered lips. Simply looking at him made Mikoto hurt.

' _I see. You wanted to train.'_

And in moments like these, she realized Itachi had (through no fault of his own) given his family a warped perception of what to expect from their children. Had Sasuke been born to any other family in the clan, or had Itachi never existed, his parents could have recognized his brilliance and taken great pride in his accomplishments.

He brought home near-perfect report cards and never forgot an assignment, even without Mikoto having to remind him. Sasuke didn't fake sick to stay out of school. He studied, practiced, trained, and did all his assignments on time, sometimes even early.

She was so proud of him for it and never stopped telling him that. If he was this organized and committed as a little boy, he would be the most prepared genin from his class in a few years. Just a few more short years…

' _And then you're going to have teammates who will depend on you. I hope they'll appreciate all your hard work as much as I do.'_ Sometimes, she saw echoes of herself in Sasuke. This wasn't a natural part of her personality, but rather something she picked up from her hesitance to fight her father. He did this all on his own because he wanted to be great. In her eyes, he already was.

"You missed dinner," Mikoto informed him. Sasuke lowered his gaze, some color in his slightly scorched face. "But it's alright. I can reheat it for you."

"Where's _nii-san_?"

"He's with your father." And from Mikoto's tone, Sasuke astutely caught on this was one of those private conversations he'd never be privy to. "Is something wrong?"

"I was really, _really_ late…"

But that in itself wasn't the problem. What Sasuke didn't say aloud was that his father's distant and lackluster response to his grades left him feeling like a nonentity within the household; that he didn't measure up to Itachi. But who _could_? What he didn't tell his mother was that he intentionally stayed out there well past his curfew, all in the hopes that someone would get angry enough to look for him. It never happened.

Mikoto handed the re-heated soup bowl to her son and ruffled his hair. It fluffed up in the back and refused to go down, just like Yori's used to do. Sasuke tried to flatten it, but his dark eyes remained on his mother. "You're a very responsible child, Sasuke. I trust you."

It may have been the words she'd longed to hear from her own parents more times than she could count…but it wasn't what her son needed.


	43. Ripe Like Plums

**Author's Note: Although this is relatively softcore compared to a lot of other fan-fictions I've seen out here, I'd like to go ahead and put a sexual content disclaimer on this one.**

 **I'm excited to also note that after this chapter, we'll be getting our first multi-chapter story arc in the** ** _Vines_** **series. Stay tuned!**

 **…**

He'd bought a nice pair of earrings for Yuka's fifteenth birthday and surprised her later with the matching pendant. She'd loved the gifts and covered Fugaku's whole face with plum purple lipstick marks. If each were a separate token of her gratitude, then she'd thanked Fugaku over a dozen times.

The relationship first started two years ago when he challenged Yuka to a kendo match. She defeated him and called him a cheating hack for having to use his sharingan to keep up. In a clan where everyone encouraged him to use the sharingan, Yuka alone stood out as that one person who urged him to save it only for emergencies and do the work on his own.

"I know you like buying her gifts because you love her, but I'm warning you. When you actually _have_ to give her a gift, like at the Rinne Festival, you'll run out of ideas." Sanjo coughed as he took a drag of his cigarette, wheezing out a faint laugh. "Though I suppose you'll be broke, too. Assuming Yuka doesn't break you first."

Yuka had a reputation for being domineering, aggressive, and overly assertive. At fourteen, Fugaku was convinced he wanted that in a girl.

"I'm making good money on my missions," he argued. "And you're single, Sanjo. You have no excuse to shit on my relationship. Give me good advice for once, would you?"

They were outside so Sanjo could smoke. Inside Sanjo's home, Fugaku could hear his friend's two younger siblings loudly arguing over whose turn it was to play with a toy. It still felt strange, realizing the twins were now four.

"Sanjo, I'm serious about this. My team and Mikuro's team are accepting a foreign mission for the next three weeks." It would take one week to make it to Koyamagakure, one week to settle things down, and another week to come home. "And I'm going to miss her while I'm in Koyamagakure."

"Isn't that where the Akane Clan live?" Sanjo's brow furrowed. "There goes your relationship, pal. Those people are–"

"I want to do something nice for Yuka before we head out." Candy, jewelry, and flowers all seemed sort of dull now…and yet he couldn't stop thinking about how hotly and wildly he'd been kissed for the jewelry. Yuka came at him with enough aggressive passion to seem at risk of eating his face off.

"Ever given her head?" Sanjo suggested, only for his friend to spit out his tea. "You think I'm joking. I'm not! My ex used to love that."

Ah. The famous ex. Fugaku heard about this ex-girlfriend for over a year and he'd never seen her. Oftentimes, he wondered if the girl ever existed, considering Sanjo never called her by name.

"Come on, Fug-face. I'll give you some pointers."

…

Kazusa strongly urged Yuka to leave all her earrings at home, telling her that it might be wise to remove body jewelry during work hours. It gave people a quick and easy thing to grab onto, rip out, and cause a kunoichi a great deal of pain.

One woman on the force used to have small hoop earrings all across her right ear…up until the point where a drunken Inuzuka latched on, ripped the earrings out, and left the poor woman with a mangled, shredded ear that never properly healed.

Fugaku enjoyed the piercings, though. They caught the light at interesting angles. Faint glint of something metallic between Yuka's charcoal-colored strands of straightened hair caught his interest every time. Now that he'd bought her a pair of earrings, he felt obligated to search for them.

But for all the jewelry Yuka enjoyed, pretty stones and metals were nothing compared to her new favorite accessory: her KMPF armband.

"Are you ever going to take that thing off?" Fugaku teased, poking the girl with his bare foot. They were at Yuka's home and unsupervised. Both her parents were on call tonight and wouldn't return until sunrise. Earlier, Yuka cooked for him. The leftovers were still on the table, congealing in their bowls.

"Maybe I won't," Yuka responded with a low, husky retort. Even though she didn't have one of the softer, sweeter faces among the girls, her voice excited him with that faint sultry undertone: like the femme fatale in his father's favorite foreign radio drama. "I'll need something to keep me happy while you're away. Proof that I made the cut as a KMPF officer will simply have to do."

She now proudly sported an officer's rank and knew which department she'd report to: Vice. It suited her, Fugaku felt. Somebody who loved to gamble as much as Yuka would be in her element breaking up illegal gambling dens, confiscating illegal substances, and putting a stop to the village's slimier crimes.

But speaking of slimy things, he couldn't help but notice the way Yuka's panties stuck to her when she removed the lower half of her uniform. They were plain cotton dyed the color of a plum's fleshy innards with a dark purple lace across the top and sides.

He'd felt the strength in her thighs before. She'd squeezed him until it hurt the first time they felt frisky enough to explore each other's bodies…but that was all they'd done thus far: explore. He had permission to look and he had permission to touch, but Yuka would decide for the both of them whenever she wanted more.

"How much are you going to miss me while you're in that trade town?" Yuka coaxed, permitting her bare legs to swing back and forth. " _Are_ you going to behave? The Akane–"

"I've met the Akane before. Nothing happened then and nothing's going to happen this time." But he wasn't a hormonal teenager back when he and his first team went to Koyamagakure. Every older person to talk to him about this mission seemed to show great concern regarding the Akane Clan and their abilities. "I like you, Yuka."

Those four words made her happy, but she wanted to hear more. "I like you, too," she whispered back, beckoning him to come closer. Yuka placed his fingers to the edges of her panties and smirked at Fugaku when he began to tug. "Ooooh. You're so dutiful."

"I'm your boyfriend. Shouldn't I be dutiful?"

"I'd certainly hope so! Isn't it your duty to keep me happy?" Yuka teased, squirming with glee as she felt those warm fingertips slide the fabric completely off, leaving her bare from the waist down. "Now give me a goodbye kiss someplace nice."

She sat her rump on the table and poised herself. Like a plum, she was ripe for the taking. The deceptively coy look in her eyes didn't fool Fugaku in the slightest. His mother's psychotic white fluffball cat made that same inviting expression on his face when he sprawled out to show his belly. And just like Kumoshiro, if Yuka had enough, her nails would dig into Fugaku until it hurt. She broke the skin once or twice.

"I haven't done this before," Fugaku threw out as a disclaimer as he placed his hands to Yuka's knees, hoping to use her legs as a means of staying in place. "So I only have one of Kaede's magazines and Sanjo's word to go by."

"You are so lucky I'm not a guy," Yuka groaned, shaking her head. "Because that is the least sexy thing I've ever heard."

"I can make it worse."

"I bet you can, but don't you dare." But she was laughing. He heard it in her voice. Fugaku laughed, too, but nervously. "Don't try me, Fugaku. I _will_ smack you." And yet Yuka kept up that playfulness, that low purr in her ultra-mature voice.

This was it; now or never. Fugaku took a deep breath, eased in, and very quickly caught a whiff of something he didn't expect. The first thing to pass through his mind was that he wanted to kill Sanjo for lying. It did not smell like fruit and he highly doubted it would taste like it, either.

"…I can't do this," he murmured, shaking his head. "I just…I can't. It's–"

"You big baby. I stuck your dick in my mouth and didn't complain. You think that tasted great?"

"No, but–"

Yuka grabbed his head by the crown and pushed him closer. From that angle, he couldn't see the embarrassed redness in her face, nor could he really voice his complaints.


	44. Red Sun Festival: Zero Hour (Prologue)

"Wear a filtration mask when you go in there. We've kept him indoors for six months." Already, Danzō saw the confused expression on the younger Shimura's face. "Please understand we did so for Lord Katsuro's own safety. He ran out of consenting sanctuaries, which is why he's here."

Konohagakure wouldn't forget that the leader of Koyamagakure's one and only clan first tried to seek refuge from Kumogakure. Akane Katsuro barely escaped the Raikage's "security detail" in one piece. The Hokage was initially hesitant about offering sanctuary to a man with so many outstanding death warrants in presently neutral territories, but Danzō talked him into it. He was never one to miss an opportunity.

Mikuro did as instructed and reached for a heavier-duty mask, noticing the respirator portion and thick gloves Danzō also recommended. "I don't understand. Why do I need extra equipment?" The fact the older man also geared up before entering the safe house left him with mild concerns. "Is the Akane Clan poisonous?"

"I wouldn't go that far, but I highly recommend guarding your nose, tongue, and skin while in Katsuro's presence. When this village first started recruiting clans to join under the Konoha banner, the Akane Clan asked to join us. They're the only one we turned down…for a slew of reasons."

' _I don't need a history lesson_ ,' Mikuro decided as he placed the mask over his face. It was a boar mask with a strong jaw and two threatening-looking tusks jutting forward to hide the filters. ' _If I wanted one of those, I could take time out of my busy schedule to visit Tohru_.'

Here they were, fourteen years old, and Utatane Tohru was still a civilian making his contribution to the village by serving as a clerk in Konoha Archives. Sometimes Mikuro wondered if his best friend carried any ambition whatsoever.

Out of basic respect for his guest's privacy, Danzō tapped his knuckles to the door a couple of times to give Katsuro fair warning he'd soon have company. "Katsuro _-dono_." He heard the man inside hiss in a breath. Although what he smelled certainly wasn't fear, he certainly heard it. "It's time."

Mikuro's first impression of Akane Katsuro proved to be one of curiosity and mild discomfort. The man was androgynous: thin with delicate features that wouldn't have looked out of place on a woman. His jacket was made from beautifully embroidered emerald brocade, which contrasted prettily with his long auburn hair and tawny eyes. Men weren't supposed to be described as _beautiful_ , but nothing more apt came to the teenager's mind…aside from _fragile_.

' _If I kicked him, I'd be afraid of breaking his bones_ ,' the Shimura boy realized. ' _If Team Buyo's escorting him all the way back to the Hidden Knolls, they'll have their work cut out for them._ '

"I suppose you know why we're here." Danzō watched as the Akane man moved to stand. "There's been a lull in the war, at least where it concerns you. Our village has deemed it an opportune time to return you to your people. At long last…" The mask hid his smile. "Your captivity is over, my friend. There's no further need to hide in the shadows. The Akane Clan can have their leader once more."

Katsuro bit his lip, holding back what he wanted to say. Mikuro noted the way the foreigner's hand shook for a split second before he stilled it. Within the room, a strange spicy aroma lingered. No incense in the world smelled remotely close to it and even with the mask on, Mikuro felt the beginnings of a bad headache.

"As you and I initially agreed upon when I smuggled you out of the Raikage's 'care,' we'd grant you a safe tenure within the confines of a village safe house until the war died down. One of your daughters already responded to our summons and will be here to greet you this evening."

Katsuro took a slow, deep breath, but didn't break eye contact. Mikuro recognized it as a self-soothing tactic. As of late, he'd noted many of his colleagues did the same thing when they recognized a name or face on a kill sheet.

"How did you contact my family?" There it was: audible dread. "Lord Danzō, if anyone saw your men, then–"

' _You're being escorted back to your home village and your clan. What's there to be so worked up about?_ '

But the teenager kept his comments to himself. "I should go," he murmured to his superior. "There's something I need to take care of before my team does our part," and before Fugaku's team did theirs.

…

They came here for Mitsumi's birthday. At least that's what they told her. Fugaku and Kaede both wanted to get everyone together just because both of their teams would be taking missions abroad, and Mitsumi was a mutual friend. Missions abroad were never short, so this could very well prove to be their last opportunity to see everyone for weeks, months, or even years.

Mitsumi wanted to eat together at Watanabe Sushi and thanked Kaede repeatedly for agreeing to pay her tab. "What else are gal pals for?" Kaede responded, nudging her freckled friend. "And what kind of best friend makes you buy your own food on your birthday? That's so inconsiderate!"

"You know what's also inconsiderate?" Mitsumi quipped, giving Kaede's ankle a playful little kick beneath the bar stools. The Uchiha girl giggled, her cheeks turning flush. "Coming back from your mission abroad with no pictures! Be sure to take plenty this time, alright? Are you going someplace exotic?"

"Cut her a break, Shinohara," Fugaku interrupted as he prevented a disaster from happening. Hiashi dared his twin to eat an entire wad of wasabi. Hizashi almost had it in his mouth before Fugaku stopped him. "You know we aren't supposed to tell you where we're going when it's abroad. What if somebody interrogates you?"

Mitsumi shrugged. She hadn't done anything outside of cryptography in ages. She, like Tohru, stayed within the village at all times and never confronted anything more dangerous than a large sheet of paper. She'd had the fight taken out of her two and a half years ago when Nawaki died. Fugaku moved on to another team without her.

"I'm excited for it, though," Kaede confessed. "This is a major mission and could change the way we do business with another village. It's so big that two teams were assigned." They'd be taking orders from a highly decorated Search & Destroy jōnin, too! "Do you know Akimichi Iwao, Fugaku? He's going to be my team's captain."

"Kind of. He's one of my dad's friends," but so was Buyo _-sensei_. "I don't know him all that well," but he had a feeling Neyuki, Kaede, and Mikuro would enjoy reporting to Iwao for the duration of the mission. They'd missed out on having a permanent mentor. "But it doesn't strike you as odd that they're sending two elite S &Ds to lead these teams when this is an _escort_ mission?"

"Oooooh. An escort mission! The plot thickens!" Mitsumi called out sarcastically. Kaede forced another piece of sushi in her friend's mouth to hush her.

"The man we're escorting has a bounty on his head larger than a small nation's GDP," Hiashi admitted. "This is as high profile as high profile can get." So, naturally, he found it difficult to sleep last night and could barely contain his excitement. He and Hizashi both stayed up late, whispering to each other about how big this could be. "He's a clan head who's been in political exile for years. They probably wanted Buyo- _sensei_ and Iwao- _taichou_ to lead this because–"

"Face it, Fugaku," Inuzuka Neyuki interrupted. "You made the Hidden Knolls sound so neat that we all want to see it."

And there it was: the familiarity in Mitsumi's face. _Koyamagakure_. She'd been there before, remembering the time she and Nawaki accidentally got separated from Fugaku and left him alone in that village for a whole day. He was very upset when he came back, mostly because of how the village treated–

"You're escorting the head of the Akane Clan, aren't you?" Mitsumi deduced. "That village only has one clan and they're…" She shivered. " _Shit_. Now I know why it's going to take eight ninjas to guard one man. The Akane aren't popular anywhere, especially in their home village."

But she saw it in Fugaku's eyes. ' _I bet you were the one who put your team forward for consideration. You couldn't leave things well enough alone last time, even when our captain told us to turn a blind eye_.'

"What a way to keep it undercover, everyone," a lower voice sarcastically growled from underneath a boar mask. Kaede and Neyuki happily scooted over so their third teammate could take a seat for dinner, too. Mikuro took off the mask and rolled his brown eyes. "Whatever happened to a little word called discretion? For heaven's sake…"

The Hyūga twins, Mikuro quickly noted, were eagerly whispering between themselves. There wasn't a single genin in the party anymore aside from Mitsumi, but she was practically a glorified civilian these days. Hiashi and Kaede were the last two to make chūnin, but at least they succeeded.

"You can't breathe a word of this to anyone," Mikuro warned Mitsumi. The girl rolled her eyes and pointed out that the people she would have told were all here…and most of them were going on the mission anyway.

"I'm actually going to side with Mikuro on this one," Fugaku admitted as he got up. "You aren't doing our client any favors by talking about him or his village." He put his money on the table for Arata and the other sushi chef who catered for the little party and readied himself to leave. "And Mikuro?"

"Hm?"

"There's a rumor floating around that this mission is your trial run with the ANBU and if things go badly, they won't reconsider you again anytime soon. Is there any truth to that?" His eyes glanced toward the boar mask, noting how Mikuro kept touching the smooth porcelain. Mikuro's silence was answer enough. "Good luck."

"Tch. Like I need it," Mikuro snapped, but Fugaku caught sight of something else. The Shimura boy was flush and sweaty. The more he touched the mask, the more feverish he appeared. Kaede offered some of her unagi and Mikuro shook his head. "I just came here to give Shinohara her birthday present. That's all. Kaede. Neyuki. We'll need to leave soon and get a head start over the other group." Kaede groaned and gave the birthday girl one last hug before she left with her teammates in tow.

' _You look sick, though_ ,' Fugaku noted. ' _Will you be able to manage this much responsibility?_ '

"I have concerns," Hiashi confessed as he moved closer to Fugaku. "This is the longest mission we've ever agreed to take away from the village." It would take one week to travel to Koyamagakure with their client, a week (or more) of staying out there to verify Akane Katsuro wasn't in imminent danger of being assassinated, and another week to return home. "And your cousin's a flake, isn't she?"

Fugaku wouldn't candy-coat it for the twins. He had concerns, too. "We are a good team, but the other team consists of a girl who gives up too easily, my grade's former class clown, and Mikuro." Mikuro, he felt, would do well on this mission. As much as they clashed horns on a regular basis and still got into fights with one another, Fugaku still had it in him to recognize the Shimura boy's talent and potential.

Out of everyone from his year, Mikuro was the most like him: ambitious, calculating, clever, practical…but too prideful for his own good.

"So why don't we ask your cousin to step back and work with Yuka instead?" Hizashi offered. "I don't think anyone here is going to doubt your girlfriend's skill."

Fugaku tuned him out, thinking about the utter disaster of a going away present he'd tried to give his soon-to-be-ex the night before. "Yuka is tied to the KMPF now. Besides…" He shook his head. "I think she and I need some distance."

…

"What's with the long face, sweetheart?" a large and ruddy-faced man called out from a nearby bar as Chigusa walked along. She recognized his clan emblem as that of Konoha's Akimichi Clan. "You'd be so much cuter if you smiled!"

She could feel her patience wearing thin. This sort of treatment was normal in Koyama, but not so much in foreign places. Somebody else blew a wolf whistle in her direction.

' _Ignore it._ _It's not worth it to get angry. Not when this village kindly agreed to send an escort team back with us_.'

The tips of the Akane girl's fingers felt stiff, so she stopped only to buy a hot drink from a vending machine. Perhaps it would be enough to thaw out her hands and make them useful again.

"You're cold, huh?" a younger guy heckled. She didn't recognize his emblem, but it was dark outside. She doubted these men could tell she was Akane just by looking at her. She'd intentionally chosen to hide her clan crest beneath her coat. "I know what'll warm you up. How 'bout a hug?"

A sharp wintry wind bit at her face and fingertips, causing her to curl even deeper into her mint green coat. Her spicy scent was preferable to the stench of alcohol and vomit permeating the street. And what was that undertone? Rotten meat? Fish?

The soft fur lining around her garment's collar gave her face something to nuzzle for further warmth, but she'd feel warm again soon enough. All she had to do was make it inside the safe house and everything would be alright; but go figure. The address she received threw her into this part of town.

Glancing down at the family photo in her hands, she cringed. ' _Will he even recognize me when we meet? It's been years._ ' She chose not to bring pictures of her other relatives, just in case this proved to be a trap. It very well could be. The last time the Akane Clan were notified of her father's location and granted an audience with him, their delegate never left the Hidden Cloud. The Hidden Leaf was hopefully a kinder place.

"Oh. So, you _ignoring_ me now? Uppity bitch."

At least the Konoha ninjas Chigusa met a few years back were decent people. It was why she'd personally requested Uchiha Fugaku's team when the request first made it to Konoha. She wanted to see Fugaku, Mitsumi, and Nawaki again. Briefly seeing Fugaku at the Chūnin Exams wasn't enough.

' _Don't you know? Things haven't gotten any better in the Hidden Knolls. The animosity toward my clan is only escalating_.' She'd lost people. A young man—one of her brothers—died just so she could come here.

And yet when people smiled in her direction, she typically put on her best face, smiled back, and waved like the little flirt she was expected to be based off clan stereotypes alone. Tonight, she couldn't bother. Her face turned ruddy too, but out of anger rather than embarrassment.

The fat drunk pumped an invisible dick in his hand and made an O face at her, grinning like a brute alongside his pal. Chigusa's eyes narrowed judgmentally at the both of them. That did it. She'd had enough.

She didn't only smile. She grinned, batted her eyes, and coquettishly beckoned for both men to come a little bit closer. To sweeten the deal, she unbuttoned the top two frogs of her coat. Even from this distance, they'd caught her scent. Like flies to a pitcher plant, they never stood a chance.

"You wanted a hug?" Chigusa asked, dropping her coat to the ground. She wore something form-fitting but warm underneath. All her body heat wafted out with the coat gone, bringing echoes of her bloodline limit with it. "Here…"


	45. Red Sun Festival: Day of Dance

The sun's deceptively warm rays slipped through the bunker's elevated windows. The heat touched Katsuro's face, causing his hair to reflect flame-like hues. Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw his daughter asleep on a nearby couch. Chigusa bundled herself up with blankets in an attempt to keep warm. The tiny heater in the center of the cold stone room did little more than create a slight kerosene scent for the air.

' _Don't worry, daughter,'_ Katsuro thought, moving closer so he could take in the familiar peppery scent of their clan. It felt like ages since he caught a whiff of any Akane pheromones other than his own. ' _We're going home.'_

He hadn't seen Chigusa since she was eight years old. She'd been such a cute little girl with her rosy cheeks and eager amber eyes: adventurous and ready to see the world. The young woman asleep before him now showed only echoes of the spunky child he remembered. He saw her mother's beauty now. Very gently, all in an attempt to _not_ wake her, he lightly brushed a few stray strands from her pretty face.

Two minutes later, just as Katsuro contemplated giving his girl a few more minutes to sleep, the alarm went off. Chigusa tensed up, grimacing and murmuring a nonthreatening swear under her breath. She wriggled beneath the blankets and sat upright, still very much looking the part of an exhausted human burrito. Placing her bare feet onto the cold stone floor finally woke her up.

"Maybe we shouldn't have stayed up so late," she admitted. "I'm _exhausted_." Her father gave her a sad, apologetic smile. "But I missed you so much! You were finally _here_ and…"

Katsuro's smile was far more sheepish. "We rambled all through the night, didn't we?" He hardly minded. This whole time, he'd come to the belief that the less he knew about the Akane Clan's current events, the better. If he spoke about them even in passing, there was always the fear that his protectors— _handlers_ was more apt, considering what Danzō was like—would extort them or worse. He put his hand to Chigusa's face, stroking her cheek. "We'll have a whole week to catch up before we even make it to Koyamagakure. There's so much I want to ask, but–"

"I understand," Chigusa replied, tilting her head firmly toward the door. "I grew up under the _sensō-onna_ occupation, too. I know when to button my lip. Those masked men aren't friends of yours, are they?" The low, awkward chuckle from her father was answer enough. Hearing him mutter that they'd remain his friends _so long as he paid_ didn't make her feel any better, either. "They're just as bad as Seidou- _dono_ 's subordinates."

Katsuro didn't contradict. That worried her.

The door opened and a young man in ANBU garb and a boar mask stood before them. "Gather your things, Lord Katsuro. It's time for us to escort you home."

' _That voice…'_ Even with the mask on, Chigusa couldn't shake the feeling she'd met this person before. Something about him felt familiar. So did the sensation of her father's long nails protectively digging into the fabric of her top. "Do we at least have time to freshen up?" The masked man said nothing. He stood at attention like a statue, watching her every move with wary eyes peering out through porcelain slits.

…

"The last time we took a mission this far out of the way, you broke a leg. I promised our parents I'd keep a better eye on you."

Hiashi sucked his teeth and gave his twin a dark look for daring to be so cheeky with him. "Like you'll need to, Hizashi! In case you forgot, we're the same rank!"

"And in case _you_ forgot, it took you an entire year to catch up to me." Hizashi's eyes narrowed as he sneered. There weren't that many victories in his life. In this one instance, he'd been undeniably and irrefutably first. He'd treasure that memory until the day he died.

Fugaku's heart sank, because he was already wondering if the twins would be this catty to each other for the entire mission. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when Hizashi first began openly expressing his grievances with his brother, but their fights were far too frequent for Fugaku's comfort level.

Over the past two years, Hiashi had significantly calmed down. He'd become more sympathetic to Hizashi's frustrations and stopped treating his brother like a slave (most of the time). Right now, Fugaku could read the frustration on the elder twin's face as though Hyūga Hiashi were an open book. A little kindness wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

When Fugaku first joined Team Buyo, he'd almost immediately sympathized with Hizashi. He wanted to step in and repeatedly urged his new friend to stand up for himself, growing increasingly frustrated by Hizashi's defeatist mentality. Although they were still close, his newfound animosity toward Hiashi wasn't anything he could condone.

Hizashi voicing his frustrations about being treated as second class was one thing. _This_ was something else entirely. It was painful to watch, all because Fugaku could tell Hiashi was actually _trying_ to make things right. At least Buyo-sensei appeared to be his typical quiet self.

"Sensei." The Aburame man glanced at his Uchiha pupil. "I've been to Koyamagakure before."

Buyo raised a jet black eyebrow at him. "When?"

"With my old team, sir. Unless you or Iwao- _taichou_ –"

"You're the only one who's been there, Fugaku. We're relying on the intel you gave us," which was what Fugaku suspected Buyo had in the tiny black book he refused to put away. Curious to see what was inside, Fugaku reached for it. Buyo lifted it higher to keep it out of reach. "No. You can't see. There's a confidential part to the mission. That's for _jōnin_ eyes only."

' _It figures. It's probably information on our client.'_ In preparation for this mission, Fugaku wrote a brief set of notes for the team to review about his past experience in the Village Hidden in the Knolls. And yet he knew very little about their client other than the fact he was the dishonored head of the Akane Clan. "What good is it to withhold possibly valuable information from your–"

"Don't forget your place. You're still my student and therefore my subordinate. The same goes for the twins." Buyo shut the little book with an audible _smack_ and slid it back into his coat pocket. "Don't pry, Fugaku. That's a warning."

Some days, he wondered if Kaede had it better with her team. Fugaku had never seen them bicker the way his team did. Even before Fugaku joined Team Buyo, Nawaki and Mitsumi butted heads. All he could see from the other group were Kaede and Neyuki excitedly listening to their temporary captain: Akimichi Iwao.

' _That brings our total to eight people. This is my first time working with a secondary squad.'_ Fugaku had to take a moment to step aside and look at everyone. The twins continued to fight. Hiashi was raising his voice now, face turning scarlet in embarrassment. Each time he grew louder, Hizashi matched it. One boy pushed the other, somebody yanked a ponytail, and it was only going to get worse from there. ' _Just great…_ '

Off in the distance, Kaede happily presented individual bentos for her squad. She handed the first one to Neyuki and playfully nudged her curly head in the direction of Team Buyo. The intention was clear: she'd prepped _four_ , not eight.

 _'_ _Do we need this many people to guard one clan head? Is he that unpopular? Just how bad are things in the Hidden Knolls right now to merit two jōnin and six—'_

"I can't believe it! It's you! It's really you!" An excited auburn-haired girl ran toward the two teams, en route to tackle Fugaku. Were he expecting to be ambushed, he could have braced himself. She blitzed him without warning: knocking him flat into the brittle winter grass. The Uchiha boy's head hit the edge of the border wall on his way down.

By now, all eyes were on him and this strange girl. She'd knocked the wind right out of him and it took a moment for him to catch his breath. The girl panted, doing the same. Fugaku's dark eyes met her brassy ones and he noted every last cloud of breath leaving her mouth. Then came an unwarranted hug tight enough that he found it impossible to breathe again. "I feel like haven't seen you in _forever_!"

"Chi…Chigusa…?" This was the same Akane girl he'd met during his last mission to her village. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm Akane Katsuro's daughter. My clan sent me here to make sure Konoha keeps their word and didn't lie about escorting my father back to Koyama. We've run into traps before, so…" Everything else out of Chigusa's mouth sounded like a verbal firing squad, one syllable after the next because she was apparently overjoyed to see a familiar friendly face. "How's Mitsumi- _chan_? I don't see her here and–"

"Shinohara resigned. Can you let me go? It's, uh…" He didn't quite like having his personal space invaded by someone he barely knew.

Chigusa blinked for a couple of seconds, noted the other people nearby, and waved excitedly until she recognized another familiar face. " _Shit_ ," she hissed, letting go of Fugaku. She stomped closer to the others and stood before them, hands on her hips. "I'm fine with everyone else here, but not _this_ asshole. He's gotta go."

"Chigusa, that's Akimichi Iwao."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"He's one of the _jōnin_ for the–"

"Oooooh no. No, no, no. _No._ Is it too late to change? That bag of dicks cat-called me yesterday." And judging from the greenish tinge of nausea on the Akimichi man's face and how much he tried to scoot away from the Akane girl; he remembered Chigusa, too.

…

The view alone captivated Fugaku's imagination, just as it had the first time he'd seen it almost four years ago. A beautiful trade town with a seemingly impenetrable wall awaited on the hazy evening horizon, nestled between the forested hills. The barrier between Koyamagakure and the rest of the world reminded Fugaku of a dragon's spine sticking out of the earth. The large birds flying overhead did nothing but add to the village's mystique.

Even from a distance, everyone could hear the beat of unified drums, all resembling a collective heartbeat in its pacing. A little closer and Fugaku heard music and the voices of many people. "Is a festival going on?"

Chigusa beamed. "Yes. We wanted my father's return to be in conjunction with the Red Sun Festival. That was intentional."

She said nothing more on the matter, but Fugaku remembered last time. A festival was how they first met. The decorations, even in the distance, looked familiar…and all he could think was that this tiny village had to be _obscenely_ affluent to host something so grandiose during war time. All the beautiful clothes he'd seen both Chigusa and Katsuro wear thus far only seemed to confirm his what he already suspected.

Chigusa's homecoming joy was contagious enough to catch Kaede and Neyuki into the fever. "You'll love it here," she assured them. "And this is the best time to see Koyama! People travel from other nations just to participate in this festival and…"

Fugaku found himself tuning the Akane girl out, catching the general gist of it all. Chigusa was proud of her clan and overjoyed to return Katsuro to their people. "Mikuro?" The Shimura boy turned to look at him, mask still on. It bothered Fugaku a bit that he'd only seen Mikuro without it twice this entire trip. "A word?"

"…sure." Mikuro's voice was quiet and slightly strained. Fugaku was used to Mikuro being an overly confident chatterbox, but he'd been uncharacteristically quiet for this mission. He barely spoke. Each time he did, his words took on a slightly pained note: like he was having trouble concentrating due to a bad headache or an illness.

"Iwao- _taichou_ and Buyo- _sensei_ mentioned there's a confidential part to this mission."

"That isn't exactly _news,_ Fugaku."

"We were only attacked once on the way over here," and Mikuro managed to take care of that threat while he went out to gather firewood on the fifth day. He'd been by himself and the person in question seemed more interested in stalking the Hyūga twins than the Akane head and his daughter.

Mikuro removed his mask when he came back to camp that night, only so he could wipe the blood off. Chigusa, in an effort to be polite, had offered to clean it for him. He'd snapped at her and skulked off. "That isn't exactly news, either. I was there. Get to the point."

"The Akane Clan is so afraid of losing their clan head that they paid two foreign squads to guard him…and we practically made it here uninterrupted." And yet all Fugaku saw staring back at him was the porcelain boar face. "Despite what Chigusa told the council, I don't think getting Katsuro _-sama_ back to Koyamagakure was ever an issue." He heard a faint, shaky sigh leave Mikuro's lips. "Keeping him alive, now that we're _here_ …"

"I understand your concern, but this is beyond our clearance level. Just do the mission and don't think about it. We haven't even _entered_ the village yet." But Mikuro agreed. From tone alone, Fugaku could tell. Something was up.

He heard Chigusa and Kaede whispering to each other amidst giggles and somehow, not that he could explain why, his blood suddenly felt cold. ' _I just can't shake it…'_

 _…_

 _'_ _It feels like a trap…'_

Like Nawaki running off into the distance, forgetting they were on a minefield, only to get blown to bits and leave Mitsumi so traumatized that she swore off missions altogether.

Like the "cry for help" mission Fugaku and the twins took to guard a farming commune, only for the locals to be so starved and isolated that they'd turned to _cannibalism_ while waiting for help to arrive…

Like the "bodyguard" mission Fugaku took for that washed up old actor in the Land of Smoke, only to find out the man lured him out there because his black market sharingan were literally rotting in his eye sockets. All he wanted were a fresh new pair…

Only this time, the trap Fugaku suspected was set by somebody he (sort of) knew. Mikuro clearly suspected something sketchy as well, considering how on edge he'd been since the mission started. Why were the others so caught up in the moment that they couldn't see something was horribly wrong?

As much as he wanted to shake the feeling, Fugaku's brain refused to ignore how the twins appeared to be every bit as excited and eager as Nawaki once was…or that some of the Koyamagakure locals they passed on their way to the Akane District stared at them with that same dead and defeated gaze the farmers had given before–

"Cheer up," Chigusa chirped, reaching for his hand. Fugaku felt hot and flustered almost immediately, which he neither liked nor understood. He had a girlfriend back in Konoha: a nice, strong, no-nonsense girl from his own clan. He didn't fancy Akane Chigusa like that. They were only friends…so why did every last bit of contact with her leave him with butterflies in his stomach and a warm sensation on the back of his scalp? "We made it!"

He recognized the Akane traits immediately. They all had the same small, slight frame, the same amber eyes and cinnamon-colored hair and features so delicate that they almost didn't look real. But he remembered the other people he'd seen last time, too: tall, muscular, broad, coarse and dark. They preyed upon these pretty people and beat a woman to death in an alley adjacent to the festival. He'd been close enough to hear the sounds. Where were _they_?

 **"** **That's the Mugen Tribe. They show up every time we have a festival, just to harass us. Then we have to** ** _pay_** **to make them go away. It's…"**

 **"** **Why don't you fight back?" To Fugaku, that felt like the only sensible means of making the problem disappear, but then he saw what happened next. The Akane woman with the torn yukata launched herself at the Mugen woman. A disorienting peppery smell filled the air and made his eyes water and his skin crawl. That's when he noticed something like vapor leaving the woman's skin. '** ** _Is that what they do?'_**

 **The Mugen woman stood there for a moment, breathing it in, and only proceeded to get angrier. She beat her opponent with a single punch to the gut. The Akane woman was winded, wheezing and sputtering between her groans as this awful group dragged her away into the shadows. Something made a crunching noise, then a gurgle, and that was it.**

 **"** ** _That's_** **why. They're too strong."**

"Chigusa…?" She glanced at him, delight still in her eyes. "I want you to be honest with me about something." There it was: a playful little hum. That wasn't an answer. "Are we really here to guard Lord Katsuro? He seems fine."

In fact, Katsuro was over there, being welcomed back by his fellow Akane with open arms. Some of them were so overjoyed to see him again that they were in tears. If Fugaku knew the man better—or if Katsuro had opened up to the Konoha teams taking him back here—perhaps it would have struck him as more poignant.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kaede pulling a tiny bottle of pills out of her bag to give to Mikuro. He slid the bottom of his mask up, just enough so he could dry swallow. "We didn't run into any major problems getting here. I expected at least a–"

"Okay. You caught on. All the problems are in the village. Once Konoha kept their word about freeing my father, I knew this would be the hardest part. It's why I wanted _you_ to accept this mission. I knew you would understand our plight." Chigusa squeezed his hand so tightly that it hurt. "We can't trust our own villagers, Fugaku. I can't tell you everything. It's for the _jōnin_ to know, but–hey, are you feeling okay?"

No. His heart threatened to explode. His balance was off and he found himself short of breath. ' _Something's wrong,'_ his brain kept telling him as he felt that familiar peppery smell take over his senses. It was everywhere in this district: a disorienting miasma that left him feeling things he didn't _want_ to feel.

It hadn't affected him last time because he was too young. Now he felt panic take over his senses, seizing him up in a way he knew his clan would find shameful if they knew. ' _They were hesitant about this mission.'_ Sanjo and Yuka both tried to warn him. Even that asshole he worked under the _first_ time he came here told him to be careful.

Chigusa was calling out to him, begging him to calm down and that he was freaking out for no reason, but she may as well have been talking to him from underwater. The last thing Fugaku experienced before he fainted was a bleak thought that he'd only felt this panicked once before in his life…and that was when that creepy old actor nearly ripped his eyes out.

…

Katsuro's hand shook as he took a slow sip of his drink: a thick, murky-looking substance with a robust earthy taste and undertones of red chili. Although he offered to pour a glass for the Akimichi and Aburame men sitting across from him, both men declined. They sat close together, both opposite of himself.

 _'_ _I see. I'm in the hot seat for this_.' It wasn't an unfamiliar position for him. "Our clan's pheromones can be quite potent. Some people are more susceptible to them than others. My daughter likes that boy. She didn't mean to hurt him." Quite the contrary; Chigusa wanted to do what the Akane Clan did best and try to charm Fugaku the best way she knew how. "I hope you won't think too badly of her."

"It was _stupid_ of her to do that," Iwao growled. "I have an Uchiha on my squad, too, but Fugaku's one of our village's rising stars. He's worth five Kaedes. If your kid keeps skunking him with knock-out gas, Katsuro, then he won't be able to protect you."

Katsuro glanced down at his beverage. It didn't taste as great once it started to cool down. "It takes time to properly acclimate to our kekkei genkai, but I'm afraid we don't have that time. He'll need to adapt, and fast. The culture out here is very different from what you're used to, gentlemen. I worried about this, but I hope you'll understand when I say I can't trust my village."

Buyo remained quiet for the longest while, simply glancing out the window at the dim red glow of the lanterns for the nearby festival. "Two weeks," he growled. "That's the most we can give you…unless you pay more." It didn't matter what kind of life Katsuro had lived or why he needed this. It wasn't any of Konoha's business. In the end, the Hidden Knolls wasn't an enemy or an ally. They were too tiny to risk going in _any_ direction with so many larger, scarier neighbors.

"That…" Katsuro sighed. "That _might_ be enough…"

"It will have to be," Buyo repeated. "That, or pay more. It's your clan's choice."


	46. Red Sun Festival: Day of Song & Lyric

The villagers, foreigners, and guests of Koyamagakure celebrated in the central part of the town and by the riverside. A famous singer from the Land of Smoke had traveled nearly four hundred miles just to be the evening's live entertainment. She'd cost a fortune to bring here, but the Akane Clan felt Yamamoto Seiko was worth every ryo they paid for her guest appearance at their festival. However, it wasn't music they could hear all the way from the Akane District, but shouting and yelling.

They wanted to improve morale. Since they were stuck in this toxic little town, the best they could do was try their best to appease the other residents. If the village had come to hate them as much as the rest of the world seemed to, they'd have finally run out of places to live. Where would they go, if not the village they built from the ground up?

As the "festival" raged on within the village proper, all lights remained on inside the heart of the Akane District. A forum was underway among the heads of household inside their General Assembly building. The stone structure took over an entire hill, with its many columns jutting out toward the riverfront. Just outside the large doors with their elaborate geometric patterns, Aburame Buyo stood guard. Within, one head of household sat in a circle for each pillar of the circular room's foyer. The spicy aroma of their pheromones wafted in all directions, giving the air a hazy appearance…as though too much incense were burned.

The Akane Clan only had nineteen households in total, organized by one head per house. It sounded small, but each house could have multiple spouses and by each spouse, many children. Houses could hold as many as thirty people. And each of these heads served in a council to advise on the decisions their head should make.

No one had acted as regent in the six years Katsuro was gone. They'd simply operated by the forum's majority vote. "We did our best to calm the natives while you were gone," a doll-faced woman with her hair tied back into a snood announced to Katsuro. "And we permitted your wives to vote on your behalf until you returned. We hope this decision met with your favor."

But he'd discovered other things upon coming home yesterday. Katsuro's heart sank when he realized four of his nineteen wives got it in their heads he'd _never_ come back. They moved on and returned to their ancestral houses. He couldn't fault them. Somewhere along the way, _he_ nearly lost hope about returning here, too.

"Yes…" Katsuro continued to sit in the central part of the forum. "And I don't bear any ill will to my wives who returned to their families. These are frightening times and we should seek comfort and security wherever we can."

 **His father squeezed his hand tightly: a gesture he'd only perform whenever somebody angered him. Katsuro glanced with his golden eyes toward the man in the red and white robes. Although the eight-year-old secretly thought the Hokage outfit was unflattering (and quite honestly sort of goofy-looking), the man wearing the robes was an impressive sight to behold: tall, tan, strong…almost like the Mugen tribe who kept assaulting the Akane.**

 **The Mugen were a huge reason for the visit. Every place where the Akane Clan set up a temporary settlement, the Mugen were sure to follow. Every time, the Akane found themselves overpowered and outnumbered. It didn't take a political genius to realize Hashirama's "shinobi village" model was the way of the future and the Akane's only hope of keeping their delicate (but formidable) clan alive.**

 **Villages made allies into neighbors and a whole quilt of cultures could be interwoven. This was what the Akane longed for. They recognized the significance of the new way and wished to be a part of the new world order. And from what Katsuro saw on his way to the Hokage's office, his father was right; this** ** _would_** **be the best place to live. Konoha was the oldest of the Five Great Nations, indicating there were four other options if dealings with Senju Hashirama went south.**

 **Why would they, though? This man once ruled the Senju Clan and his first founding ally had been the Uchiha Clan: the Senju's arch enemy. It made about as much sense as Katsuro's father shaking hands with the Mugen matriarch. The fact the Akane Clan hadn't been on the opposing side of the Senju Clan for at least seventy-five years probably boded well for them, too.**

 **The Hokage's office was large, circular, and had many windows so the village could be observed in any direction. The windows had to be why Katsuro's hand hurt from being held too tightly.**

 **"** **You left them open…" his father sighed in disappointment. "I was promised a private audience with you."**

 **"** **And you have it," Hashirama insisted, not even looking Katsuro's father in the eye. "I don't think anyone here has ears sharp enough to catch our conversation over the sound of the fans, Masaru." But such clans existed. The Inago Clan to the far east came to mind. Their** ** _ultimate ear_** **could pick up footsteps in the wilderness from kilometers away. "I'm sorry. I know how this looks, but for the health and safety of myself and everyone else in the building–"**

 **"** **Lord Hokage, I came a long way to talk with you in earnest. If you won't take my clan's plight seriously, then–"**

 **This whole time, Katsuro had heard about the Hokage's warmth and generosity, but that wasn't what he saw in those dark eyes. He saw ambition and a lack of understanding. Moreover, he saw annoyance and anger, both directed toward his father. Katsuro tried squeezing his father's hand to calm him down, but it was too late.**

 **"** **Masaru," Hashirama spoke with a cautious tone to his voice. The lack of honorific hadn't gone unnoticed. "You must think I'm ignorant of the Akane Clan's** ** _kekkei genkai_** **. Either that or you're taking me for a fool. I'm keeping open ventilation in this room not only as a means of personal safety, but also for yourself. Surely we don't want anyone to question any judgment I make by saying I was drawn in by those vapors you and your son naturally secrete…"**

 **There was a long silence. Masaru turned his back, nudging his child to come with him. Although he tried to keep a straight face, Katsuro knew his father well enough to recognize humiliation when he saw it.**

 **…**

 **In the end, "** ** _give me time to come to a decision"_** **was as far as the Akane Clan received from the First Hokage. Hashirama died five years later and the whole matter appeared to have been long forgotten. The Akane weren't a top priority and the end result involved the clan writing requests to align with a village willing to accept them…and converting a small town into a minor shinobi village as they waited.**

 **A small trade town nestled between a seemingly endless horizon of highland hills chose to build and expand around a river. The Akane were welcomed, but the wealth they brought along only made them more welcome. Massive expansion projects were taken and the merchants who once called the town home were initially thrilled to have shinobi neighbors willing to teach them the arts, though they all knew this was just a stepping stone for the Akane. Their jasper-haired neighbors planned to latch onto a larger nation someday.**

 **Trade, at least, they could manage alongside the original locals. They'd been a merchant clan in the old days, anyway. Various spices, rare ingredients, precious stones, and other items of value transferred through their "Hidden Knolls Village" like blood through arteries. Always, a part remained in Koyamagakure and in their accounts. Better safe than sorry.**

 **If a major nation was hesitant to take them, then at least they could make themselves more desirable. Such was Katsuro's logic when he'd come to take command. His father's failed attempts with all five villages left him embittered. The creation of their tiny little village took the last bit of stamina and life Masaru carried in his fragile body. He'd died halfway through the project at the ripe old age of thirty-two. Katsuro took over as clan head by thirteen, ruling through a regent until he reached the clan's age of majority.**

 **Katsuro knew from the start he wouldn't inherit an empire. He inherited a glorified town with no other shinobi clans. The Akane brought in more business and shared their culture with the natives, gradually empowering them and teaching these former civilians how to fight. It did nothing to hide that impending sense of vulnerability, especially when the strongest non-Akane in the village was a single woman with a slew of adopted daughters.**

 **The end goal was to leave this place someday: to settle someplace larger and safer so the Akane could prosper alongside powerful allies. He'd written to the new Hokage in the hopes of receiving more than a promise of commerce. Tobirama's response had the forum in an uproar.**

 **"** **Can you believe this?!" One of the strongest heads of household held the list out, hands trembling in fury. "I've never been so insulted in all my life! Senju Hashirama at least reviewed our case, but his goddamn** ** _brother_** **…"**

 **"** **How bad is it?" Katsuro asked. He'd always felt so small when he stood in the central stage of the forum, as though he were the pupil in the eye. These people surrounding him were the strongest and most successful men and women of the clan. Many were older than him. Many could clearly remember a time when villages weren't even an option. Now their young and cautious clan head wanted to align them with one. "I haven't read it yet."**

 **"** **Read, then! Here are the Hokage's terms and conditions, Lord Katsuro!" The scroll was thrown from a high place down to the pit where Katsuro stood. The Akane head caught it in his hands, opened it, and understood almost immediately why his forum was in an uproar.**

 _Although Konohagakure recognizes Koyamagakure as a minor shinobi village and has been grateful for the continued use of trading valued items at this ideal location, the request of the Akane Clan to migrate to Konohagakure has left our assembly and council with more than a few concerns._

 _The last time such business was discussed between the prior Hokage and the prior Akane head, the latter sought to cloud the Shodaime's mind with his pheromones and trick him into making a favored decision. If the Akane Clan is sincere in their desire to assimilate to the culture of the Hidden Leaf and join under our banner, certain concessions must be pledged and followed for the continued health and safety of our fellow villagers._

 _1\. The Akane Clan (men, women, and children) are expressly forbidden from using any of the public baths or hot springs within Konohagakure city limits. This stipulation is also in place for pools, ponds, and other public bodies of water._

 _2\. Any assembly (business or otherwise) between the Akane Clan and outside parties shall be conducted outdoors or in large rooms with open windows and good ventilation. Closed and confined spaces occupied by the Akane shall only be occupied by the Akane._

 _3\. All Akane shall publicly identify themselves as such by displaying their clan crest at all times. Akane traders from Koyamagakure shall also notify the Konohagakure border patrol prior to entry that they are Akane so additional precautions may be taken as deemed necessary._

 _4\. All Akane shall wear gloves and never make skin-to-skin contact with other Konohagakure persons. They shall also shower or bathe no more than thirty minutes before expecting to conduct business, all so pheromone levels can be better managed._

 _5\. Any construction project (be it zoned as commercial or residential) belonging to an Akane within Konohagakure borders shall require high ceilings, large rooms, and at least one strong fan. Open courtyards are preferable and no room shall be smaller than 15m x 15m_.

 _6\. No Akane shall attempt sexual intercourse with a non-Akane without submitting a request for license to the Konohagakure Military Police Force and receiving permission, as these encounters shall be logged and forwarded to the hospital. Additionally, non-Akane partners shall sign a waiver indicating they understand the risks and wish to proceed regardless. Unlicensed partnering is strictly prohibited. Violation shall result in the permanent expulsion of the offending Akane and the entirety of their household._

 _7\. Any suspicion of using Akane pheromones for personal gain (on relationships business deals, political backings, etc.) shall thoroughly be investigated by the Konohagakure Military Police Force with all information forwarded to the Hokage's office for review. Those found guilty shall result in the permanent expulsion of the offending Akane and the entirety of their household._

 _8\. All Akane immigrants to Konohagakure (and traveling Akane from Koyamagakure) shall hold residence in a segregated district for census purposes and the general safety of the rest of the village. Renting or purchasing residential property with the purpose of occupying it with Akane tenants outside of this district is prohibited. Violation shall result in the permanent expulsion of the offending Akane and the entirety of their household. The property shall then be transferred to the village general ledger._

 _9\. There is a cap percentage on Akane loans that shall be respected whether the Akane chooses to live in Konoha (8%) or Koyama (16%). Konohagakure understands the Akane Clan's long history of high interest loans, but Koyamagakure shall need to understand the highest percentage their largest and nearest ally is willing to acknowledge. Any loan with a higher percentage than the cap shall default to these interest rates under Konohagakure law. Any attempts by the Akane Clan to collect beyond the cap shall lead to a freezing of assets and a full financial audit, courtesy of a specialist appointed by the Konohagakure Council._

 _10\. In the event the Akane Clan signs off on the aforementioned terms and conditions, they shall cease and desist in their pursuit of other great shinobi nations as alternative choices of prospective residence. Any further pursuit shall be seen as treason. Violation shall result in the execution of all offending parties, a thorough interrogation of the entirety of the household to identify and execute other violators, and a forfeiture of all properties and earnings to the village general ledger. All Akane found to be innocent shall be returned to Koyamagakure, but permanently banned from Konohagakure._

 **All Katsuro saw was scarlet. "We're not signing this," he decided, crumpling up the paper. "This is the most bigoted and adverse decree I've ever seen put to paper and I'm going to** ** _tell_** **the Nidaime that. We deserve better."**

 **Tobirama's response was to avoid trade with the Hidden Knolls. An embargo remained in effect until the document was signed…five years and** ** _many_** **angry taxpayers later.**

 **…**

 **An angry villager dragged an Akane tax collector into his home, beat the young man senseless, and locked him in a closet for four days before turning him loose again.**

 **Another Akane man's nose ring was ripped out when he refused to settle with a haggling buyer's suggested lower price for a handbag she wished to buy.**

 **One of their few female heads of household was uncomfortably quiet at the last forum. She had a black eye, a split lip, and someone had forcibly shaved her head. She was too shaken up to give a name.**

 **Despite first assuming he wished to negotiate with the villagers and come to an understanding of why there was such animosity between them, Katsuro changed his mind when one of his sons discovered the decapitated body of a little Akane boy floating in the river. Even with the larger nations threatening war all around them, nothing scared Katsuro more than the concept of civil war breaking out at home.**

 **They were hated and they knew it.**

 **"** **I'm leaving the village for the sake of the clan," Katsuro confessed to the forum. "I refuse to come back until I return with a new ally or a promise of a better future." They stared down at him in all directions as he remained in the center, glancing back up at his people from ground level. "My father spent most of his life trying to find us allies elsewhere. We could have found brotherhood and a more stable life within one of the Five Great Nations, had we not been so prideful. Perhaps it's time to concede and relocate, provided anyone will have us."**

 **"** **But what makes you think the world's changed enough to accept us now?" the woman with the shaved head snapped. Her two husbands were at her sides, trying to console her. "Senju Hashirama, the** ** _god of shinobi_** **, refused us. His brother forbade us from even** ** _entering_** **his precious village without publicly announcing that the Akane are coming!"**

 **That had led to a fight, which only made matters worse. Katsuro had once accused Senju Tobirama of holding a personal vendetta against the Akane. They all remembered how** ** _that_** **turned out.**

 **But Katsuro was older now and hopefully wiser. He'd grown into a handsome man and did his wives and little children proud. "Now another man is Hokage. Sarutobi Hiruzen is a man of** ** _my_** **generation. He grew up with the village model and knows what works and what doesn't. They call him The Professor. He's a learned man: a scholar and a humanitarian." Moreover, he wasn't a Senju. "I want an audience with him and I intend to get one. Will any of you come with me?"**

 **But he saw it in their eyes. They were too afraid. And he should have been afraid, too.**

"Are we going to get that comfort and security anywhere else? We understand you were captured and held as a political prisoner in multiple locations, but was it all for naught?"

All Katsuro found it in himself to do was bite his lip and take a deep breath, just as he'd done in his youth. "They want more money," he confessed. "It's the only thing keeping them from breaking their word and abandoning this mission altogether."

"Money… _money_ …is that all this world ever thinks about?!"

He could attest to it. Men and women alike fretted over finances. These villages who feared their pheromones still spoke of commerce and trade. Doing business with the Akane Clan wasn't a problem, so long as the Akane didn't move in and become their new neighbors.

' _Chigusa saw it with the boy in the mask,'_ Katsuro noted. That boy stayed away from her at all costs and kept his distance, becoming defensive and fitful when Chigusa so much as tried to touch him.

And when she tried to get closer to the Uchiha boy she'd once seen as a friend, the boy took a bad reaction from holding her hand. As he'd explained to many a Daimyo and Kage over the past few years, some people were simply more sensitive to the pheromones than others. That didn't mean they'd always believed him.

"Money is the _only_ thing we can offer. It's our sole means of ensuring our friends _remain_ friends." And when it ran out, they would leave. Money bought alliances only briefly. As soon as the clan stopped paying, that was it. They would once again be on their own. "They fear our sweat…our tears…our saliva. And since they fear that part of us, they wish to keep their distance."

Katsuro understood the fear and revulsion–and there _was_ revulsion. The Akane Clan secreted a potent aphrodisiac and he'd discovered in his life that it only became worse during periods of terror and high stress. Excitement could do it, too, and Chigusa had always been an easily excited girl.

"Please," one of the stronger heads of household called out from the top level. "Katsuro- _sama_ , at least tell us our clan gained something by having you gone for so long."

It broke his heart to tell them this, but they were his people. They deserved better than to be lied to as he'd been lied to. "We gained knowledge," he confessed, "and that knowledge is the unwavering, irrefutable fact that we are alone in this world. No one is willing to help us unless we pay for it."

He'd made one grave error after another during his expedition, which all started when the Sandaime Kazekage agreed to hear him out in a private audience indoors. Word spread about the Nidaime Hokage's slight, so other nations offered to at least hear the young Akane head out within closed doors. It shouldn't have been enough to lower Katsuro's guard, but it was.

And he'd paid heavily for it. His first tragic mistake involved meeting the Kazekage in the heart of Sunagakure rather than a neutral location. The man seemed sincere at first and even held out a (gloved) hand to shake with him. Everything felt right in the world for those few moments…until Katsuro was informed he wouldn't be leaving and had become a political prisoner. After all, who needed to accept an entire toxic clan within village borders when you could simply hold their head prisoner and twist them into giving you what you wanted?

The Akane sent an envoy to bring their leader home a few times. Every time, these clansmen mysteriously disappeared…but Katsuro knew the truth. Their skin, blood, and saliva were harvested and sold on the black market. And all the while, Katsuro had to smile in public and thank the Kazekage for "keeping him safe!" He was only released when he stopped being a source of amusement, but Kumogakure wasn't any better.

The Hidden Cloud didn't even take him into the public eye. Katsuro's whole tenure as their hostage took place within a locked room. He feared never being turned loose and had to degrade himself in increasingly more depraved ways just to convince his captors to _feed_ him.

 **"** **What the fuck do you** ** _mean_** **his own village doesn't want him back?! They only have one fucking clan in the whole fucking place and they don't** ** _want_** **him?!" The Raikage was furious enough to punch a hole in a nearby wall. Katsuro could see the whole thing from the grate on his prison cell door.**

 **He knew about it. They tried to do what the Kazekage tried to do before and put him out for ransom. Considering how well that worked for the Akane the** ** _first_** **time, Katsuro wouldn't have thought ill of his relatives for giving up and appointing a new leader rather than buying his freedom. Some things were too risky and these people couldn't be trusted.**

 **But it wasn't the Akane he'd heard the Raikage curse. It was his** ** _village_** **.**

 **"** **I kinda pity 'im," a dark-skinned kunoichi in ANBU garb responded to her lord Raikage. Her hair somewhat reminded Katsuro of cotton candy from how she'd tied it back into matching fluffy buns. "Motherfucker's own village put a hit out." All she could do was shake her head. "And all those letters his clan keeps trying to send…shit's gone** ** _bad_** **out there. You might not even** ** _wanna_** **trade with these freaks. Not with the amount of baggage they're gonna cost you."**

 **Dark eyes turned toward Katsuro's cell. Their gazes met for a brief moment and his stomach twisted into knots. '** ** _The villagers put a bounty on me…?'_**

 **Was it all so surprising? The Hidden Leaf snafu led to a half-decade embargo. The Hidden Knoll villagers experienced a tax hike like no other to counter the sudden loss of income. The Akane tried to improve morale by hosting festivals and beautifying the city. If it cost so much to live here, it surely needed to be the envy of the world…right?**

 **But few people moved to the area. That meant no new money came in, save from the traders passing by from far more distant lands. They were more infrequent and not to be relied on.**

 ** _Tourism_** **, they decided afterward. If they brought in bigger and more famous people to perform at their events and made their pretty town a prime travel destination, then–**

 **Then came the Second Great War. No one wanted to think about vacation during war time, even if the Akane brothels were famous for having the best performers on the continent. Where had it all gone wrong? Their sole intent had been to build fraternity and bonds with other people to better preserve their family.**

 **In retrospect, had the old Akane ways been better: to strategically place Akane women in court as consorts and brides, using their charms and natural advantage to snag themselves Daimyos and generals for husbands? Such concepts sickened him.**

 **Katsuro fancied himself as a progressive: as a man who wasn't about to force a woman to settle for any man she didn't love. Women weren't property. Two of his sisters had grown to become heads of household. They were his equals, so he'd put a stop to those missions until a lady volunteered. They never did.**

 **'** ** _But did we need to sacrifice one of our women to lure a Kage? Was that what we really needed in order to succeed?'_** **He'd hoped for understanding and found none and now…** ** _now_** **…**

 **'** ** _Now my own village is paying for my execution.'_**

 **"** **Excuse me…" Katsuro tapped his knuckles to the door weakly. "Lord Raikage?" The man turned to look at him. His disappointment was palpable. "How much are they offering to pay if you kill me?" But the man said nothing. He merely grabbed his ANBU accomplice by the arm and pulled her out of Katsuro's range of vision. A door slammed.**

 **…**

 **He awoke to the smell and hissing sound of red-hot metal. "Careful," Katsuro murmured half asleep. "My pheromones are combustible. You could–"**

 **"** **Stay quiet," a flat, foreign-sounding voice commanded. The Akane head recognized the accent as a** ** _Konohagakure_** **accent. Why were they here?**

 **As his eyes adjusted to wakefulness, he noted that the entire door glowed and began to melt as though it were made of ice rather than metal. Three masked figures stood on the other side, all staring him down with unchanging, static expressions. They were in full combat gear.**

 **When the door collapsed into nothing but a red-hot puddle on the ground, Katsuro backed into the corner and sat on the cot to avoid being burned by the molten steel. To his horror, the metal legs on the cot began to melt, too. In the background, he saw the Kumogakure ANBU woman from earlier lying on the ground with a sword through her chest. Six of her compatriots were equally dead and strewn about.**

 **And yet only three masked Konoha ANBU stood at the open doorway. Three men did all this. Only three. The man in the center stepped into the cell. Katsuro tensed up and closed his eyes, bracing himself for death, but it never came.**

 **Gingerly, Katsuro opened his right eye, only to see this man had a gloved hand extended out for him to grab. "Akane Katsuro of Koyamagakure?"**

 **"** **Yes…?" His heart was racing, which only made the vapors spill forth more potent than ever. '** ** _They'll smell them,_** **' he realized. '** ** _They'll smell them and feel the sensation and think that I'm trying to manipulate them. I can try to explain. They won't believe me. Then I'll be killed._** **..'**

 **Then he heard the telltale sound of a respirator beneath the ANBU mask. "Do you want to live? If so, take my hand and come with me. Now."**

 **…**

 **His new savior's name was Shimura Danzō. The man set up camp several miles away from the Hidden Cloud and accompanied Katsuro to a river when the Akane man confessed he hadn't been given an opportunity to bathe in nearly three months. The whole time, the Shimura man stayed upstream of him.**

 **That was fine. Katsuro knew he'd remain poisonous until he performed a purge. The last thing he wished to do was intoxicate his rescuer, especially since Danzō's men were on standby not too far away. "I still don't understand why you freed me."**

 **"** **Make no mistake, Katsuro," Danzō murmured as he worked diligently to remove the blood from his bare arm. "You're** ** _far_** **from free."**

 **The Akane head's mouth opened slightly at that, disappointed but not entirely surprised. "So I'm** ** _your_** **hostage now? I see…"**

 **"** **Would you rather remain with the Raikage?" There wasn't any smugness or arrogance in Danzō's tone: just a grave, somber sincerity. "Or with the Kazekage? What do you think the Mizukage would do to someone like you? Your clan isn't a physically strong one. You'd be eaten alive in Kirigakure."**

 **Before he could say anything, Katsuro was once again cut off. "You can't even consider returning home as a possibility. The person who put the money together to arrange for your assassination is your village's new champion. The Akane Clan is losing its influence over the Hidden Knolls, slowly but surely. By the end of the Great War, I could easily see** ** _all_** **of it going to Seidou of a Hundred Returns."**

 **'** ** _Seidou of–what?'_** **He knew Seidou. She was his age…but then again, so was Danzō. "I don't know what you're talking about. We created that village. Seidou was just a…she was only…"**

 **"** **Well, whatever she** ** _was_** **, she's more than that now. My men have heard rumors that she found a way to make herself immortal: an undying guardian for your tumultuous town. Would you even want to return to a village where your loudest opposition can't be killed?"**

 **"** **That's** ** _impossible_** **. It's–"**

 **"** **I assure you it's anything but. Seidou wouldn't be the first shinobi to find a way to delay death. If anyone kills her, she comes back the following day…but let's change the subject, shall we? I don't want you to see yourself as my hostage."**

 **"** **No!? Then pray tell! What am I, if not your captive?!"**

 **Danzō took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, making his way out of the water so he could dry off. He held out another towel for the Akane man, keeping it at a far distance. "Consider yourself in political exile until things die down in your hometown. This is your chance to speak with the Third Hokage and make him aware of your plight. He's an old friend of mine."**

 **"** **I have your word, then? I'm not a hostage?"**

 **Danzō let loose a small huff. Katsuro couldn't tell if that was a sigh, a laugh, or just a grunt of annoyance. He just knew he hated the way that man smiled. "I prefer to think of you as being under my protective custody…"**

And when Katsuro no longer had it in him to pay Shimura Danzō for the privilege of being protected by Konoha ANBU—despite the fact the Danzō _never_ coordinated a meeting with the Sandaime—Katsuro was conveniently informed it was time for him to return. Somehow, a world that wasn't safe for him weeks ago now wanted him back.

Katsuro's clan did, anyway. He'd paid his own ransom to the Hidden Leaf, only to find out his fellow Akane were in equally bad shape with their finances. Every attempt to improve morale had brought them that much closer to bankruptcy. "I don't know if we have the budget to keep all eight shinobi here as long as it will take to restore order. This is an S-Rank mission. Most of the Konoha operatives we were sent are only chūnin."

It would be too much for even eight of Konoha's elite, and it wasn't lost on Katsuro that one of them reported to Danzō. The quick glimpse he'd caught of the boy without his mask, he couldn't help but wonder if they were related. "I was led to believe Seidou made herself immortal and put a bounty on my head. Is there any truth to that?"

His kin's silence was damning enough: at least the bounty part was true.

"If your Konoha teams are threatening to abandon you and forfeit the mission, then we have to find a way to convince them to stay," a head of household stated firmly. "Lord Katsuro, we tried it your way. Let's do to them what the world did to you."

"No! You can't! I'm cautioning you. Don't even think about it!" Katsuro threw himself to the ground, bowing prostrate before his nineteen heads of household. "I couldn't live with myself if I discovered my clan planned to subject someone else to the same treatment I've suffered over the past few years. I wouldn't wish that on _anyone_!" Not even Seidou. "I'll try to negotiate with Seidou and put a stop to this. I'll pay for the protection until–"

"Where do you think the money's going to _come from_?!" another head of household snapped. "The heirs apparent for the Hyūga and Uchiha clans accompanied you here. We have a golden opportunity for a ransom."

"But they're children!" Katsuro pleaded. "For heaven's sake, Uchiha Fugaku is Chigusa's age! Their clans will retaliate. Their _village_ –"

But they weren't going to listen to him. A clan head was a figurehead and nothing more these days. As overjoyed as they were to have him back, it would be a long time before anyone listened to Akane Katsuro again.


	47. Red Sun Festival: Day of History

It wasn't Kaede's problem if Mikuro was in too much pain to enjoy himself. If all he wanted to do was pop pills and stick with Fugaku; that was his prerogative. There was a festival to be had–and Kaede felt oh so festive with her boyfriend! Today alone, Neyuki shared a melon bread loaf, bought her a scarf, and won her a goldfish at one of the game booths.

"What am I gonna do with this?" Kaede teased him, elbowing the Inuzuka boy's side as she held up the plastic bag. A beautiful rust-colored fish swam about with long, pretty fins. The creature was probably terrified, assuming fish could feel emotions. She poked the bag. It moved away.

"Doesn't your grandfather have a koi pond back home?" Neyuki asked. He'd always grin so widely, as though his mouth would touch the red marks on his cheeks someday. They never did, but he could grin wide enough to make Kaede worry that they would. "Take good care of him while we're here and his fish can have a brand new roommate."

"Or he'll go belly up before then. If Iwao-taichou goes forward with the extension, we might be out here an entire month!" Kaede kind of hoped he did. This was the prettiest village she'd ever seen! Before they left, she wanted to get as many postcards and photos as possible for her family and Mitsumi. Mitsumi didn't travel anymore, so Kaede felt it was sort of her duty as her best friend to travel by proxy. She could see the world and show it to her friend in pictures.

Neyuki shrugged. "Wanna give it to Chigusa, maybe? I bet you anything she has a fish tank somewhere in that fancy house."

"Nah. Chigusa- _chan_ has everything in the world she could possibly want. I'm kind of jealous."

Kaede grew up in one of the largest houses in Konohagakure, but Uchiha Tenjin's estate was nothing compared to even the smallest Akane household. Hell, Fugaku lived in a _dump_ next to Chigusa's family and his mother was a clan head! The Akane District had only nineteen residential homes in total, but Kaede couldn't help but feel each one looked like a manor or castle: all overlooking this village from the biggest, prettiest hill.

What a world this was: to be populated by beautiful people wafting love from their very skin! She'd danced in the Akane Clan's haze for the past three days and savored every moment of it with Neyuki. This was the most joyous adventure she'd ever taken. Her whole body felt alight with excitement and glee.

' _We're in a faerie land,'_ she mused, ' _and we helped a lost king return to his kingdom.'_ It hadn't gone unnoticed that the non-Akane residents of Koyamagakure were overly friendly toward foreigners: all eager to give a slight discount of goods in order to bring business a little closer. Here, it was good to come from another nation!

' _When I eventually marry, I'll make my husband come here with me for a visit,'_ Kaede decided, giving Neyuki's hand a tender squeeze. In the end, she knew she couldn't keep him. They'd have a good run for a few years, but that would be it. Uchiha could only marry Uchiha with rare exceptions permitted by the clan head…and she was on Kazusa- _taichou_ 's shit list.

' _But until then, Neyuki, I'm glad I shared these moments with you.'_

But what guarantee did she have that an Uchiha boy would be anywhere near as susceptible to the pheromones as Neyuki? His strong Inuzuka nose left him feeling as frisky as a cat on catnip. They'd accidentally destroyed a festival booth yesterday, and quickly had to run away before the vendor saw them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kaede spotted the Hyūga twins sharing a candied fruit skewer. Hiashi took a big hearty bite of what he assumed to be an apple, only for the tomato to explode and launch its contents everywhere on his white shirt. Hizashi laughed until his mortified brother shoved him into a puddle.

Farther off into the distance, she caught sight of Mikuro and Fugaku competing against each other at a booth game. Mikuro hit a pile of bottles with a ball, calling foul when it bounced back. ' _It's good to see you're taking a break, Mikuro-kun. And it looks you're feeling better, too.'_

"Say, Neyuki…" Kaede interlocked her fingers with her boyfriend's hand and gave him a quick kiss. "Some of the stuffed animals they're giving away as prizes look really cute. Think you can–"

The only complaint she had with the Akane Clan's pheromones tinting the air everywhere they went was that it drove the dog insane. Ashimaru barked at virtually everything. Many a leg had lost its virginity thus far on the trip. At least if the leg was an Akane leg, its owner brushed it off as no big deal. They just told Neyuki that he had a very "friendly" dog.

And somewhere in this chaos, the dog caught the scent of something so tempting that he couldn't behave. Ashimaru broke free from Neyuki's side and barked loudly, chasing what was probably a rabbit…or rat. A few people were unfortunate enough to be in the animal's way when he bolted, getting knocked over like bowling pins.

"Ashimaru, wait! Stupid mutt!" Neyuki ran after his four-legged companion, trying to keep up. "Excuse me! Sorry! Please move! _MOVE_ , already! I'm trying to catch my damn dog!"

Kaede didn't bother to help Neyuki chase Ashimaru. They'd had a grand time making a mess of each other already, but Neyuki's attention span remained an issue. She knew she couldn't fix it, but that didn't make her any less annoyed when Neyuki's attention so quickly went to other things.

When all else failed, she could watch all these pretty people pass by. That never got old! There was an almost uniform beauty to the Akane with very little variation. Every last one of them had the cinnamon-colored hair, the tawny eyes, the light skin, and a dainty ectomorphic build. At some points, Kaede had difficulty telling the men from the women.

The variety came from the other people, and the most interesting ones were the women in ANBU-esque garb, complete with the white masks. The Konoha ANBU masks could be quite detailed. Some resembled traditional noh masks, while others were modeled after specific beasts. These Koyama masks were far more simplistic in design. The strangest part was that they were identical: perfectly smooth, save for the two crescent moon eye holes and the overly long, red smile by the mouth. The grin seemed to go ear to ear.

"Over here, ladies!" a takoyaki vendor called out excitedly, waving them to come closer. Two masked women—a blonde and a pink-haired woman—made their way over, bowing politely to the vendor. "It's always a delight to see the _sensō-onna_ having a good time!"

"How can you tell?" the pink-haired woman retorted, pointing toward her mask. The vendor laughed and handed over the octopus dumplings. The _sensō-onna_ lifted her mask slightly so she could take her first bite. Kaede noticed a mole on the right side of the lady's face before the porcelain came back down.

But there were far more women like that roaming the festival. They tossed rings, threw balls, hurled kunai at moving plywood animals…and Kaede was intrigued. "Excuse me…" The two masked women turned to face her. "I'm from abroad."

"Are you from the Hidden Leaf Village?" the masked blonde inquired. "I recognize your accent."

"You have a good ear! Have you ever been to Konoha before?" Kaede scooted a little closer, still fascinated by the masks. Mikuro used to scold her for being overly friendly with foreigners. Perhaps he still needed to do so. "You dress a lot like our ANBU back home."

"Koyamagakure is very small. We _sensō-onna_ serve are the ANBU, law enforcement, and border security squads combined. We protect. We defend. We enforce." And they wore their uniform with pride.

' _Sensō-onna: women of war. Has this place even seen war?'_ Whether or not the Hidden Knolls had experienced the horrors of war, these lady-warriors were out in plain sight and made their presence known. The ANBU back home didn't do this. They hid in the shadows, doing their best _not_ to be noticed. "Is it your day off?"

Both women shook their heads. "We're too dedicated to take days off," the pink-haired woman admitted, patting her friend's shoulder. "But we were asked to patrol this area. We might as well have a little fun while we're on duty, right? Besides, Shinju here owed me a day in town. She's buying everything."

"H-hey! Sekiei, I didn't…I never…ooooooh! I'm gonna get you for this!"

The pair wandered off, laughing and pushing each other in a way that left Kaede standing in place, wanting to watch as Sekiei and Shinju of the _sensō-onna_ disappeared into the chaos of the Red Sun Festival. ' _You're best friends, aren't you? Even if I can't see your faces, I just know these things.'_ Kaede noted the faint sting of tears in her eyes and knew immediately what triggered them.

She'd never be able to take Mitsumi here. The only missions she accepted these days were desk work. When they were little girls, they talked about growing into proud and strong kunoichi. No matter what, they'd support each other. And now, here she was alone: seeing the best the world had to offer.

'Y _ou'll never do outside missions ever again. Will you, Mitsumi?'_

Feeling lonely, Kaede made her way closer to where she'd caught sight of Mikuro and Fugaku. "I thought you were stronger than this, Mikuro- _kun_ ," she teased lightheartedly. "I've seen you blow trees to the ground and knock down buildings with your wind release before. You can't knock over sake bottles with a rubber ball? My goodness!"

"Cut him some slack, Kaede," Fugaku grumbled, arms folded. "I'm pretty sure they rigged it." He examined the bases of the bottles with his sharingan, looking for glue or some other kind of epoxy to keep it in place. He couldn't find any outward signs. Maybe later, when Hizashi stopped by here later, he could prove his suspicion.

Mikuro didn't seem to care. He clutched a ball in his hand and spun his arm around in a windmill motion. "Rigged or not, I'm going to win!"

Kaede let loose a long sigh and put her hands to her hips. "There's a difference between being a winner and being an idiot. You're throwing away your money."

"Nobody asked you, princess!" Mikuro hissed at Kaede for her most recent retort. "Wasn't Neyuki with you?"

"Yeah, but–"

"Go find him, then! Don't you know we split into pairs for a reason?"

"Oh. Riiiiiiight. Was it so you can blow your finances on a stupid game?"

"No, _stupid_. It's so we have better visibility on Katsuro and his family! Keep your radio on and find your partner. Pronto." Mikuro shooed her away like a pest. As Kaede turned to leave the pair to their own devices, she heard one last thing from Mikuro. "Sometimes I find it hard to believe you two come from the same clan."

Fugaku's quick, curt laugh only made it worse.

Kaede could feel that old familiar flame of annoyance building inside her, wanting to come to the surface and cause a scene. "Fine. See you later. I hope you keep losing." He'd go in an infinite loop if he did: futilely throwing balls at glued-together bottles until he ran out of tickets or one of the Hyūga boys called the carnie on his bullshit.

The booths and the people all started to look the same after a while. Once everything and everyone began to blur together, Kaede felt disenchanted with the whole place. ' _Those women, though…'_ They seemed to have a good life, or at least a fulfilling one.

If she were back at home, now would be one of those times where she'd consider bumming a cigarette off Sanjo. The last time she asked for one, he warned her that they were bad for her lungs; but what did she care? Had he ever heard her _mother_ talk with that hoarse, wheezy voice of hers? Years of blue fire release were going to screw up her windpipe anyway. She may as well smooth it over with tobacco.

Kaede's mind wasn't on Akane Katsuro or his daughter, nor was it registering to her just yet that she roamed to the very edge of the festival. From this location, she saw all the grandeur and intrigue. Today was the Day of History. On this day, everyone was supposed to pay their respects to the people who turned this tiny town into something so beautiful.

In other words, they were honoring Katsuro- _sama_ 's father: Akane Masaru.

The dead man's offering bowl was mostly empty, but the scent caught Kaede's attention: so strong. So _pungent!_ None of the Akane she'd seen in the festival smelled even half as strongly as Masaru's shrine. Stepping in, she quickly noticed how badly vandalized the shrine had become.

 **You people are poison.**

 **Even in death, Masaru-sama demands your very last coin.**

 **Parasitic fascist.**

Perhaps Kaede understood nothing about this place after all. Was it so hostile that Lord Katsuro had good reason to worry about his safety, even though they met nearly no issues on the way over? Even with all the pride in Chigusa's voice earlier as she talked about the Hidden Knolls, Kaede heard enough sadness to notice.

Koyamagakure wasn't the faerie-land she first imagined it to be. Maybe this place was the geographical equivalent of those artificial sugars her mother used to lose weight: deceptively sweet at first, only to bite back with a disgusting and unwanted aftertaste.

Behind her, she heard the shuffling of feet. From scent alone, she recognized these two strangers as Akane. She didn't need a sensitive nose like Neyuki's to tell. "I'm just leaving an offering, okay? I'm not–"

"Are you the Uchiha who escorted Lord Katsuro back to this village?" the shorter of the two men inquired. "Along with Lady Chigusa?"

Meekly, Kaede smiled and bowed before the two. "I am. Uchiha Kaede: at your service." But there it was again: the artificial sweetness with the bitter back-bite. The two Akane smiled, but their tawny eyes were apologetic. "I'm not offending your culture by leaving an offering for this man, am I?"

They moved closer as a pair, reaching for her as though she were a pet cat who hated being picked up.

"Hey…what are you doing? You're scaring me." Why were apologies and desperation so clearly shown in their eyes? Why did the air suddenly feel too thick to breathe, save for that hot, damp, sultry sensation she'd experienced all day? Kaede's body felt too light to control, save for her legs. Her shins may as well have been welded to the stone floor.

The two Akane reached for her. Kaede grimaced, feeling as though her heart would burst. ' _Was this why Fugaku passed out the other day—because he_ _ **touched**_ _these people!?_ ' Were they really so–

"Let GO of me!" Kaede hissed, but she felt too dizzy to stand. When her legs gave out, one of the men rushed to catch her. She was a petite girl, but she could feel the man struggle. "We brought him back, so why…why would you–"

The second Akane sighed, reached in his pocket for a thin silk scarf, and decided to tie it around Kaede's mouth so she couldn't talk. By this point, the girl was terrified but unable to do much more than squirm. Her brain wanted to spin around in circles inside her skull. She tried to fight the urge to vomit, knowing she couldn't purge it with the scarf blocking her airway. Fainting would be preferable!

"Please don't think ill of us, girl," one of the Akane men whispered apologetically as they worked together to drag her away from the festival and toward the Akane District. "We're only trying to save our–"

A shuriken whizzed past Kaede and lodged itself in the neck of one of the men. He fell instantly with a massive spray of blood spurting helplessly out of his severed carotid artery. The other man screamed in terror and tried to run for it. He slipped and tumbled down the shrine steps, leaving Kaede behind.

"Cowards…" a low female voice growled. Kaede's head started to clear now that the only Akane nearby was the near-dead one. She rolled away from the body and looked up, wondering who this other person was. She smelled something floral rather than the peppery scent of Akane pheromones.

' _I've smelled this perfume before.'_ Kaede couldn't exactly remember where she'd caught that scent before, but she'd paid far closer attention to her sense of smell since she started dating an Inuzuka. Scents could be connected to memories and the scent of hydrangeas was–

' _She smells like_ _Hanako-sensei and my mother!'_

Her kunoichi preschool teacher and her mother were old teammates and former friends. She'd grown up knowing Hanako- _sensei_ her whole life, not to mention Hanako's son: Yamanaka Nori. Hanako and Naho wore the same fragrance, but they didn't lather it on anywhere near as strongly as this woman did. Too much perfume and it ceased to _be_ perfume.

…

Perhaps it was the after-effect of the pheromones, but Kaede ended up hugging the woman and offering to buy her lunch. She was older than the other two she'd met earlier. That and she didn't hesitate to take off her mask once they sat together at the udon restaurant. She smelled a few Akane here or there, but most of the other patrons clearly did not belong to one of the Nineteen Households.

"Eat as much as you want," Kaede insisted, taking another shumai dumpling for herself. "My grandfather has a lot of money and you saved my life, so…"

She wanted to take a good long look at her savior. Judging from the faint crow's feet and bags under the woman's dark blue eyes, she had to be close to Kaede's mother's age. While Naho was a tall and willowy creature, Kaede's new friend was a sturdy, big-boned brunette. "You weren't in any real danger, dear. The Akane seldom kill anyone."

"Eh?"

"I know Koyamagakure is a pretty place, but don't let its superficial beauty fool you. For the past twenty years, we've been in an economic recession. Those men probably planned to ransom you." The woman sipped her silver needle tea and took another dumpling from their shared appetizer tray. "You said your grandfather is wealthy and you come from an affluent village. Who is he, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Uchiha Tenjin." Kaede gave the name effortlessly and with great pride. Filial love was alight in her eyes. Over the past two years, Tenjin invested a great amount of his time into training her in the courtyard. Despite his indifference toward her in her childhood, he'd come to treasure her after she proved her ability to make blue fire. "The Son of a Thousand Fires. Ever heard of him?" The woman frowned and glanced down at her food. "What is it?"

"You sound as though you pride yourself based off your pedigree rather than your own abilities. Is it really so great to grow up in a man's shadow, Kaede- _san_?"

Kaede had spent so much time paying attention to all the Akane in the village that she barely noticed the other people. They simply looked _normal_ by comparison, like the sort of people she'd find in that lower income part of town Mitsumi and her father lived in back in Konoha.

"My best friend doesn't have a grand name attached to her," Kaede confessed. "Mitsumi's father isn't even a shinobi, but she's the smartest person I know. They even used her cryptography questions for the Chūnin Exams! I can't properly express how in awe of her I truly am, but she's amazing. She doesn't even have to come from a clan to be great. Mitsumi's just Mitsumi, and I love her so much for that."

"And yet you're proudly displaying _your_ clan crest. Are you proud to be an Uchiha?"

Kaede shrugged. "I'll be honest with you. The only one I'm proud of is my grandfather. I'm not on the best of terms with the rest of my clan. How is your udon, er…um…I just realized. I forgot your name."

"You didn't forget it, dear. I never gave you my name." Just as Kaede's face turned red from embarrassment, the woman answered her. "My name is Seidou. I'm the head of the _sensō-onna_."

"The masked ladies? I think I met two of your girls earlier, then! Shinju and…and…"

"Sekiei, probably. They go everywhere together." Seidou maneuvered with her chopsticks to stick some of the fat, slippery white noodles into her mouth. "We're a kunoichi-only faction that protects this village and its people at all costs, even from threats on the inside."

"Like the Akane Clan, I'm starting to assume…?" Kaede shivered, thinking about how the overexposure to that chemical they wafted felt. When the pheromones reached critical mass inside her lungs, she didn't even feel like herself! "I guess I don't understand it out here. They said they founded Koyamagakure and, as such, they're to be respected."

"The founding of this village is only half of the story, Kaede- _san_. You'd do better not to dig too deeply into our history, or you'll find plenty of things you won't like. I know the same is true for your village."

"Eh? You've been there?"

Seidou nodded slowly. "Since your current Hokage was appointed, I have been many times. In fact, a kunoichi from your village inspired me to create my beloved _sensō-onna_. I always hoped she would take a mission out here someday and see that I turned our pipe dream into a reality, but it never happened. I always wondered what became of her."

Kaede ate quietly for a while, hoping Seidou would say more. "What was her name? Perhaps I know her."

"I doubt it. Lady Yanagi was well before your time."

Kaede's bowl was empty long before Seidou's. Every last thing about this woman fascinated her. She was the strongest warrior in the whole Hidden Knolls Village: their great guardian and defender. Despite this, there was something almost _regal_ about her.

"But I must confess: telling me that you are Lord Tenjin's granddaughter does worry me a little. How long do you have until your mission ends?"

All Kaede could do was shrug. "I really don't know, Seidou- _dono_. I'm not even sure if I should be telling you this, considering we were hired to protect the Akane head. They're all convinced you're the enemy. _Are_ you enemies?"

Seidou put her noodle bowl down and took a deep, hearty breath. "Dear girl, I made the Hidden Knolls my home around the same time the Akane Clan did. I love this village with all of my heart and have devoted what remains of my life into keeping it safe. I would _never_ consider myself the enemy of anyone who loves Koyamagakure as much as I do. It's my very reason for existence. Without it, I am nothing."

The Uchiha girl felt more at ease upon hearing that. ' _Seidou-dono loves her hometown. That's all it boils down to.'_ When the waiter returned, Kaede paid for the meal and bowed politely. "I can see why you love your village, Seidou- _dono_. It's beautiful."

"Kaede- _san_?" Seidou stood and gave the girl a polite bow on her way out. "I appreciate the hospitality you showed me today, but I must warn you. Even if the Akane Clan seldom kills, they have a long history of taking high profile hostages. You'll need to be more careful or you could run into this problem again. Please pass the word along to your teammates."

"I will, but Seidou- _dono_? One last thing. You said the Konoha kunoichi who helped you create this program was named Lady Yanagi? Who is she? What clan is she from?"

Seidou smiled to herself, letting it slowly turn into a grin. "Before your mission is over, seek me out again. Talk to my girls. They're here to protect the tourists, too. If you would like to see Konoha's influence on this village where it matters most, pursue us. We'd love to find out more about your village."

 _…_

"I told her I wasn't going to do anything until I cleared it with my squad leader." Kaede smirked, holding out the migraine pills for Mikuro. Neyuki was taking a bath, meaning they had the room to themselves. "And I don't care if Iwao- _taichou_ outranks you, Mikuro. You've been the de facto squad leader for our team for so long that I thought of you first! So…" Her eyes practically twinkled. "What do you think?"

Mikuro didn't answer right away. The Shimura boy merely twisted the top off the pill bottle and dry-swallowed two chalky white monstrosities. How he could do that without grimacing, Kaede would never understand. "Seidou of a Hundred Returns is the strongest ninja in Koyamagakure, and I'm having a hard time believing you bumped into her at random. Do you think she was stalking you?"

Kaede shook her head slowly and scooted closer, perhaps too close for Mikuro's comfort level. "No. And I have to caution you that I was exposed to a _lot_ of pheromones today. Two Akane men tried to kidnap me, but Lady Seidou rescued me. I think she just happened to be in the area. She was very nice!"

"You know what else she is? _Foreign_." There was an edge of caution to Mikuro's voice that Kaede had grown to recognize over the years. That would be the closest he'd ever get to showing actual concern. "We aren't officially allies with the Hidden Knolls yet. How we proceed with Akane Katsuro will decide how that plays out."

"I received an offer to train with her ladies while I'm here." Mikuro dropped the pill bottle and stared at his teammate in disbelief. "And considering only _girls_ are in that program, don't you think this could be a good opportunity to find out more about these people the Akane Clan are so afraid of?"

"You have to be very, very, _very_ discrete about that, Kaede." That cautionary tone had only elevated, though his voice had grown far quieter. Mikuro pulled her closer and Kaede shivered, face flush. "I mean it! The Akane Clan paid us to look after Katsuro, true, but that woman you met paid _my_ superior a whole lot more to do _nothing_. Just be careful, would you? Seidou runs that faction like a cult."

"Yes, well, you and your Uncle Danzō would know a little something about _that_ , wouldn't you?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"So I can do it?"

"Yeah…yeah, you can do it. But I am the _only_ person you tell about this. Understood?"


	48. Red Sun Festival: Day of Art

**Author's Note: This has very little to do with the** ** _Red Sun Festival_** **arc or the plot, but I know I love to find mood music for reading and writing purposes. If you would like to treat yourself to the sounds of the Hidden Knolls Village, feel free to check out** ** _Rajna_** **'s music on YouTube. When designing Seidou of a Hundred Returns, I pretty much had "Glorian" on repeat.**

 **…**

On the highest hill opposite of the Akane District were the steep cliffs the _sensō-onna_ called home. When working with the contractors to carve half the highlands into steep ravines, Seidou knew what she wanted from day one. The hills were to be gutted and turned into an impossibly vertical terrain: impenetrable without her express permission.

She requested her architects provide her with an absolute and unbroken view of the village. From the cliffs, her wish had been granted. The entire village could be seen from these heights and though she and her ladies lived within the earth itself in ant-like formations, the Koyamagakure villagers _looked_ like insects from up here.

Their subterranean residences were visible only through the colored and plated glass bubbles protruding from the stone like glowing jewels. An underground part of the river served as their hydroelectric power source, maintaining lights and electricity. And within the earth, the internal climate remained the same: a cool yet comfortable 12°C.

She made her way down the hallway, noting that some of their tiny lights in the halls were starting to dim. "Will you join us for breakfast today, Mother?" Seidou turned to her left, noticing the friendly and charming face of her oldest and most beloved "daughter." Within the earth, masks weren't needed. After all, they were her perfect little family.

' _Sabi…'_ They were all her daughters, in a way, seeing as she'd legally adopted every last one of them–including the young ladies in the village who came to join the _sensō-onna_ of their own volition. "What are we having today?"

"Seikei said something about duck over rice." Sabi's smile turned playful as she held out a gloved hand for her leader. "With chili oil and red peppers, I think."

"For _breakfast_?" Seidou raised an eyebrow. "Whose turn was it to cook?"

"Sekiei's."

That suddenly explained everything. That girl craved spice so badly that she'd once stolen all of the little hot peppers from the canopy gardens and eaten them all within the course of one hour. She then made the mistake of trying to dry Shinju's eyes when she cried over a sprained ankle. Both girls ended up going to Sabi's infirmary because their eyes burned.

"How about it, then? Think you can burn a few taste buds for the sake of good company?" Sabi's hand was still held out in offering. Seidou took it, feeling Sabi's fingers tighten between hers. "I'm glad. Some of the girls want to tell you what they saw yesterday. Something happened in the East Ward."

"It's the Red Sun Festival, Sabi. Something _always_ happens in the East Ward."

This time of year, Koyamagakure had no dull moments. It was all the commoners could do to keep afloat while the Akane Clan launched another expensive holiday. Each extravagant celebration came at a price, and that price was always paid with the village's tax money. Perhaps the Akane meant well, but they were so financially irresponsible that it made Seidou's blood boil.

"Did you enjoy yourself yesterday, Sabi? Did you go down there?"

"I prefer to skip the Day of History, if it's all the same to you." Sabi's arm swayed as she walked, taking Seidou's hand with it. Seidou hardly minded. The contact was welcome. If anyone could put her at ease, Sabi could. "Considering how I came to be your daughter."

…

 **A pack of wolves were reportedly causing problems for the farmers on the outskirts of the village. Just as soon as the farmers thought they'd caught one of the creatures, the beasts made their way for the highlands and were too much of a hassle to chase.**

 **Akane Masaru offered a year of free food for the household who killed every last wolf in the pack and brought the bodies before him. Considering what the Akane Clan viewed as a "household," that was no small feat. The hunt lasted for weeks, but the animals became stealthier than ever before. The villagers were scared, ravenous, and determined to kill the whole lot.**

 **"** **You're insane," her neighbor commented when she caught Seidou trudging her way up to the higher hills carrying her bow and quiver of arrows. "At least take a spear with you. Those things go for people's throats!"**

 **"** **I appreciate your concern, but you're overreacting." Seidou smirked at the older woman, hands on her hips. "I killed a bear with nothing but a kunai last year." And the people rewarded her generously for that, too. "And the year before that, there was the giant man-eating hawk."**

 **As grateful as the Hidden Knolls were to have a shinobi clan within their confines, no one here believed for an instant that their strongest ninja was an Akane. They all knew it was Seidou: a lone kunoichi who moved here with no family ties and seemingly no history. She didn't even have a surname.**

 **The locals loved to gossip about that, of course. They suspected Seidou was an unwanted half-breed from a powerful clan—Senju and Inuzuka were the most popular suspicions—and Seidou never contradicted them. People could believe whatever they wished, even if they believed something false. As long as they respected and feared her, they could find comfort in those lies.**

 **Deep into the wilderness she went. The hot summer air stuck to her face like the breath of a dragon. '** ** _I'm sure they're in the woods.'_** **The shriek of a nearby wounded animal caught her attention–but it sounded faintly too** ** _human_** **for her comfort level. '** ** _What on earth…?'_**

 **Bears and hawks seldom went into the heart of the wilderness, so she'd never gone this far. All the howls of wind and the noise from the village were uncomfortably muted when the woods turned to forest. All Seidou could hear were her own footsteps and the screeching of mating insects. By this point, she lost her trail for the wolves. All thoughts about the hunt came to an abrupt halt when she stepped on something small and decomposing.**

 **After letting out a quick curse, assuming it to be a half-eaten animal, Seidou inspected the carcass more carefully. She'd lived in Koyamagakure for three years, but this was the first time she'd stumbled across one of the village's ghastliest secrets. The kunoichi stifled a scream, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.**

 **The dead thing by her foot used to be a human baby.**

 **Her heart refused to slow down and her hands couldn't steady themselves. The sickeningly sweet smell of decay permeated every part of the deep, dark wild. Once Seidou's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noted several more infants in various stages of decomposition. Some were fresh…and the faint peppery scent of the Akane Clan was among them.** ** _Pungently_** **so.**

 **To hell with the wolves. They weren't even** ** _big_** **wolves!**

 **'** ** _What IS this? Why are there so many?!'_** **Her neighbors never reported any missing children and none of those broken little bodies could have been any older than two years old when they died.**

 **Frantically, Seidou searched the corpses, trying to take a head count for how many were out here. Did they abandon still-born babies and little ones who died in their sleep? The Akane Clan only married and procreated within their clan. They weren't even above brother-sister couplings if it meant the child would carry stronger pheromones. They were one of the most inbred families she'd ever encountered, so–**

 **A wet cough caught her attention. In a flash, Seidou's entire body was coated in ice-cold sweat because she knew what this meant: one of the infants was still alive.**

 **…**

 **Only a monster would leave a child to die. Forfeiting the hunt, Seidou brought the infant back to her lodge. Masaru, head of the Akane Clan, sat across from her; staring in disbelief at the little bundle in Seidou's tattooed, muscular arms.**

 **Masaru confirmed what she initially expected: the baby girl was definitely Akane. Her eyes were that same amber color they all had, and her little tufts of hair looked like dark rust or autumn leaves. "I'm trying to find out which household she belongs to," Seidou confessed. "Lord Masaru, there were at least thirty babies in that part of the woods. I think we may have a serial killer on our hands."**

 **Masaru didn't make eye contact. He merely sweated.**

 **The village was still new. Many people, Seidou included, had come here without any family ties or public backing. Most of them were her fellow nobodies. The Akane were the closest thing they had to a legitimate clan within village borders. They ruled like little lords: affluent, powerful, influential, and charming. And all those little corpses smelled just like them!**

 **"** **Someone within our walls could be stealing Akane children, but what worries me is this one was still alive." Starving and sick, but alive. After she was fed, the baby perked up a little. She even smacked her lips and tried in vain to suckle Seidou. "Most of them were so badly decomposed that I couldn't tell, but they could be dying from exposure or dehydration or–"**

 **Masaru buttoned his lip, his long fingernails digging into the wood of Seidou's chair. She noted that he'd scratched the arm. "Those children don't exist, Seidou. You saw something that you had no business seeing and took something you had no business taking. Nobody is looking for that child because she isn't real."**

 **"** **What are you saying? I'm holding her! She's** ** _definitely_** **real! I'm certain–"**

 **The Akane head reached for the infant, taking her into his own arms. He inspected her as he would a doll or a piece of fruit. "Ah. Here." Holding out the baby's right hand, he splayed her fingers to show webbing between her pinky, ring finger, and middle finger.**

 **"** **You have to understand that our bloodline trait is very difficult to cultivate. As a result, we typically only marry among our own. Sometimes, our children are both with flaws and defects. We can't keep the defective ones. They run contradictory to what our clan deems most important. It's easier for all of us to forget they ever existed." Masaru handed the infant back. "No one's going to look for that child, Seidou. Please do my clan a favor and put her back where you found her."**

 **…**

Inside their dining hall, only some of her ladies were fully dressed. The younger girls were still in their bedclothes or had their hair in rollers. As soon as they realized their leader sat among them for breakfast, the girls stood at attention and bowed to show their respect. "Good morning, _okaa-sama_ ," they called out in unison.

Seidou smiled and politely bowed back, taking her place beside Sabi. The warm and welcome scent of hot peppers greeted her nose as she glanced down at her breakfast. "Did you make this, Sekiei?" she called out to the pink-haired lady. Sekiei grinned and teasingly put a finger to her face as if she were pondering one of the world's most difficult problems. In reality, she simply made a habit of covering her mole. "It's delicious."

"Why do you think it's my favorite?" Sekiei responded, a touch of color in her face. "We never eat your favorite, though. I don't even know what it is."

"I came from a time and place where one was merely grateful to _have_ food, dear. I can eat most anything." And almost anything could whet her palate. "Ladies?" All eyes were on her. "How much trouble have we run into with the Red Sun Festival so far? How did the Day of History go?"

People offered money to Akane Masaru's grave during the Day of History. On top of the heavy taxes, expensive rental properties, and overpriced goods; the Akane Clan still saw fit to bleed their villagers dry. It also led to disgruntled locals wanting to vandalize the tomb.

"Why don't you ask us what you _really_ want to know, _okaa-sama_?" Sekiei batted her eyes a bit and put more of her chili-laced concoction into her mouth. "You want to know who trashed the tomb this year."

"Yes, I do. Did you catch anyone?"

Masaru was long dead. He wore himself out—not that it took much to do that to an Akane—during the colonization. On his deathbed, he appointed his inept thirteen-year-old son as his heir and successor. Masaru converted this merchant town into a shinobi village with the best of intentions, but he was set in his ways. The more Seidou discovered about her beautiful fragrant neighbors over the years, the less she could turn a blind eye to their atrocities.

"My issues are with Akane _Katsuro_ , ladies. Masaru is only a memory now. Memories are harmless. They can't hurt anyone."

…

 **Instead of money, Seidou placed a cooked rabbit leg in the offering bowl. The villagers were so poor and hungry that they dared to steal from the dead. This included the tomb of their great founder. A stolen food offering would get them further than gold. No one could eat gold.**

 **"** **I think I'm the only person outside of the Nineteen Households who still visits you, Masaru. Minus the thieves, of course…"**

 **It was three in the morning and her girls were sound asleep in her estate: now the largest non-Akane building in the village. Everyone knew about Seidou's adopted daughter (whom she'd lovingly named** ** _Sabi_** **after her rust-colored hair). Here they were, years later, and many desperate Koyamagakure women begged her to take in their daughters as well. They couldn't afford to feed them. As a result, Seidou was now the "mother" of** ** _twenty_** **…and counting.**

 **The burly brunette sat with her legs folded beneath her, still dressed in her blood-spattered hunting gear. Akane Katsuro had no spine. He didn't know how to lead, and his arrogance led one of their greatest sources of income to seek trade elsewhere.**

 **"** **They're comparing your clan to ticks now. They say you're sucking the livelihood out of anyone stupid enough to trust you. I know this isn't what you wanted, Masaru. You never wanted to be here. If you had your way, your people would belong to a larger village. You only settled with us because no one bigger and better wanted the Akane." In the cold winter air, she could see the steam rising from the rabbit leg. "We could have made it work, assuming your son tried. He hasn't bothered."**

 **Instead of solving Koyamagakure's problems, Akane Katsuro chose to travel in search of a fresh start for the Akane…and** ** _only_** **the Akane. His people came upon this town like locusts and it could never recover. Not in one lifetime, anyway. Possibly not even in four.**

 **"** **Instead of fixing our home, Katsuro chooses to see the world. I can't fault him for finding that option more appealing. I did the same at his age, but then I found this place. In the end, I think he'll come to realize what I realized: that even with its flaws, this village is as good as he'll ever get. I'll right his wrongs while he goes soul-searching."**

 **And for Koyamagakure's sake, Seidou would do everything in her power to make sure Katsuro never came back. The present Kazekage owed her a favor, anyway…and so did Shimura Danzō.**

 **…**

"Nobody saw the vandals, but they wrote some rather offensive things." By now, the sensō-onna were in full gossip mode, talking among themselves. "But it's all per usual, I think. Parasites. Demons. It's words and phrases we've encountered in the past."

"That's not true. Someone was bold enough to write that Katsuro should join him in the tomb!" A couple of the girls laughed over that until they saw the somber expression on Seidou's face. "You don't find that funny?"

"Not particularly, no." Seidou ate the last bit of her food and heard the rest of what they had to tell her. Two Akane were found dead not too far from Masaru's shrine, though they knew why. Those men attacked a foreign girl, and Seidou did what any sensō-onna would do. She rescued her.

By the time Shinju mentioned two men set an Akane woman on fire, Seidou's appetite was gone. Her ladies apprehended the men, of course. They were supposed to protect the whole of the village. For now, at least, that still included the Akane.

"And the woman…?" Shinju insisted she'd be better off not knowing. They apprehended the men and let the victim burn. _'This is the world we live in? I'm ashamed…'_

Sabi poured Seidou another cup of tea and placed her hand on the woman's wrist. "Are you alright?" she whispered. "What's bothering you?"

Seidou got up and thanked her girls for having her company this morning. She would need some time alone to meditate and reflect.

This time of year was always the worst. The Akane Clan dragged the village deeper and deeper into debt with their lavish festivals and expensive projects. They leeched whatever they could to recover their finances…only to splurge it on such frivolities and swore the reason for it was _morale_.

But in her own weird way, Seidou had to thank them. If they weren't so damn good at bankrupting the village, she never would have had this many girls.

…

 **"** **You're gaining supporters in all directions. Do you realize that?"**

 **Seidou was a guest tonight, wearing a beautiful saffron-colored** ** _ao dai_** **rather than the combat gear she and her masked ladies sported in the Hidden Knolls Village. Her girls were in the hall, paying attention to the ANBU masks of the Hidden Leaf and comparing them to the ghastly grins on their own.**

 **The ANBU didn't talk as much. They were boring.**

 **As Akane Katsuro suffered at the hands of the Kazekage and was publicly forced to thank the man for providing "shelter," Seidou dined in the company of the Third Hokage and his council as an invited guest. They were near her age and each person at this table gained** ** _quite_** **a reputation during the last great war.**

 **When Sarutobi Hiruzen raised his glass to Seidou, the curvy brunette raised hers in response. "Is it the** ** _good_** **kind of attention?" Seidou inquired. "Sandaime Hokage–"**

 **"** **Please. Call me Hiruzen. I'm still getting used to my position."**

 **Seidou smirked at that and took a sip from her glass. "As am I, Hiruzen-** ** _dono_** **." But she'd created her own. There was a need the Akane Clan could not provide for her village, but Seidou did: security, stability,** ** _order_** **. "And I'm hoping your tenure as Hokage will be a far more favorable one for my village than your predecessor's was."**

 **Mitokado Homura sighed, glancing in his friend's direction. "We were the Nidaime's students, Lady Seidou. He could be a very severe man at points, but he always wanted what was best for Konohagakure. Even you have to admit that the Akane Clan are too toxic to take lightly."**

 **"** **Try living with them," Seidou responded calmly. "Their clan head thought he'd travel the world in search of bigger, stronger allies. I'm convinced he'll eventually come back here, considering he tried with the First** ** _and_** **the Second." But she could hear it in Homura's voice. The Akane were never going to join under Konoha's banner because Konoha didn't want them. "But it may be a while. He's presently being held as a political hostage in Sunagakure."**

 **"** **And I'm sure your** ** _sensō-onna_** **will free him, of course?" Koharu put a morsel of food between her lips and ate. "The Akane are your village's sole founding family. For a clan to go headless–"**

 **"** **A decapitated government may be what Koyamagakure needs in order to heal herself, at least in the short term. Your village's sanctions against our wares, paired with the Akane's spendthrift tendencies, left our finances in a shambles. Where I come from, people are starving. My ladies are even getting reports of** ** _cannibalism_** **."**

 **Apricots were one of her favorite foods. The Hokage had given her so many tonight, but Seidou couldn't eat them. She didn't feel hungry. Her girls never starved, but the villagers did. Despite where she came from and what sort of history she carried in her heart long before joining Koyamagakure, that village had become** ** _home_** **.**

 **Seidou refused to watch it wither away and die.** **It was too big and too precious to fail. One of the men at the table could see it in how she firmly reached for the glass. She was itching to get back to the good fight and clean up her homeland.**

 **"** **If Akane Katsuro escapes Sunagakure and attempts to come here, what would you have us do? Turn him away?"**

 **"** **It all depends on what you want the future of our two villages to look like. The Akane was Koyamagakure's past. The** ** _sensō-onna_** **is her future." Seidou's dark blue eyes glanced toward the head of ANBU. He smirked. She did not because she was deathly serious about this. "The time may come when I ask Konohagakure to do the most difficult thing possible:** ** _nothing_** **."**

 **…**

In the winter time, few things grew. Most of Koyamagakure's winter dishes were meat and dried vegetables rather than anything fresh. Seidou and her ladies made use of balcony gardens during the summer and glassed them up as greenhouses this time of year. Only a few fruit were left on her plants.

Down below, she caught sight of something bright and blue. It flickered like foxfire or like the flames associated with lost spirits. As she opened the window to glance down, she could have sworn she heard her name in the wind.

When the blue light flickered again, brighter than before, Seidou supposed it couldn't hurt to investigate. Making her way down the great ravine, returning to ground level, the source turned out to be the young lady she'd rescued the day before. "Kaede- _san_?"

"Oh god." Kaede's face was scarlet and contorted into an expression of horror. "I need your help! It's…two of the boys I traveled with were…they…"

…

"I see. They were abducted." Seidou glanced down at the pot of tea she'd chosen to share with this girl. Two of her masked girls had seen fit to put a pot on and give Kaede a warmer jacket to wear inside their base. The curly-haired Uchiha girl thanked them for their hospitality, but she couldn't stop shivering. "Was it the Akane?"

Kaede slowly nodded her head. "My team doesn't know I came to you. On the books, we're supposed to be protecting that clan, but they're holding Hiashi and Hizashi hostage." She worried for them. They were a little younger than her and still had so much in the world they needed to see. Sure, they could be annoying at times; but she didn't want either one of them to suffer! They were good kids!

"The rest of our group is trying to rescue them, but…" Kaede continued to tremble, either from the cold or from rage. "I can't sit by helplessly and wait this out. You offered to let me train with you. Please, let me take on a mask. Let me fight with your girls and make these bastards pay!" Only the day before, Kaede nearly met a similar fate. Seidou saved her then and she expected Seidou to save her comrades now. " _Hiashi_ has to go home, at least. He's going to lead the Hyūga Clan someday. Hizashi just…he got caught up in this because they're identical twins and…"

Seidou pushed the tea cup closer to Kaede. "Alright. You can fight with us, but we aren't going to do anything rash. If you want my help, you'll need to abide by my rules. Do you understand?"

"I do! Believe me, I do!"

' _And you tell that boy in the pig mask that my village isn't Konoha's playground. We're willing to trade, but we won't be used.'_ Not again. Not ever. "You'll train with Hisui today. She's your age and the same rank as you. Train. Study up. Be prepared to fight with the rest of us tonight once we have enough intel to find those children."


End file.
